The Healing of the Wounds
by timeaftertime09
Summary: Starts in Season 6, filling in what was left unshown between Brennan & Booth in "The Hole in the Heart", "The Change in the Game", and shortly afterward. Both Brennan and Booth struggle to come to terms with Vincent's death and define their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

It was quiet. Her sobs were no longer audible and from the way her eyes were closed and her breathing slow and steady on his chest Booth assumed Brennan had finally managed to fall back asleep. He hated seeing her like this, where there was little he could do to make things right. He was used to being the hero – the guy who saved the victim and caught the bad guy. But this time, there was no possible way to bring back a member of their team . . . one of their own. He felt like he was in Afghanistan all over again. He knew there was no way he could have prevented Vincent's death, just like he couldn't have saved Teddy Parker, but it didn't make their deaths any easier to take. As if on cue, Brennan stated the words that had been eating at him from the moment he realized Vincent had been shot.

"It could have been you . . ." she looked up at him with eyes still red from crying. "Does it make me a bad person because I'm glad it wasn't?"

His heart ached for her. For such a strong and independent woman there were times when her child-like innocence never ceased to amaze him.

"No . . . No, Bones – you will _never_ be a bad person," he assured her.

"But I –" she protested.

"Are you still upset about Vincent?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she answered.

"Then you're not a bad person," he maintained. "No one deserved that bullet – we both believe that."

"I-I just don't know what I would have done if it had been you," she confessed, a tear trickling down her face.

He gently caught it with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Bones. I promise," he vowed, turning on his side to face her.

"You don't know that, Booth. Statistically, you – you . . ." she trailed off.

"I know – I'm lucky," he admitted.

"I don't believe in luck," she reminded him.

"Well, luck . . . fate . . . skill . . . the point is that I'm not leaving, okay?" he promised.

"But Booth, scientific fact proves that that is something that is out of your control –" she objected.

He put two fingers to her lips.

"I'm not," he insisted, then spoke softly as he caressed her cheek. "I will _never_ leave you."

They caught each other's eyes, simultaneously leaning in to meet each other's lips. As the kiss deepened, Brennan pulled back.

"Booth . . . should we be doing this? Are you . . .?" she questioned.

"I'm not angry anymore, Bones. I'm tired of fighting . . . and I think if we learned anything from Vincent it's that life's too short to waste it being angry at the ones you care about," he told her.

Brennan lowered her head in saddened agreement.

"I've changed. I . . . am no longer impervious . . ." she said. "I-I thought you should know."

Booth smiled, poignantly, and drew her lips to his, this time meeting no resistance. Without breaking their connection, he carefully turned her on her back, leaning over as he made a trail down her neck. Brennan let out a faint moan and pushed up his t-shirt. He sat up and pulled it over his head, then helped her remove her sweatshirt as well, as they proceeded to make love into the early morning hours.

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A few hours later, Booth woke up to see Brennan sleeping soundly on his chest. He couldn't have asked for anything better at the moment. He wanted to stay like that forever – no criminals, no murders . . . just two people finding peace and comfort with one another. But he knew it wasn't possible. Broadsky was still out there and he had to take him down before he got to anyone else – especially Brennan.

He brushed Brennan's hair away from her face, careful not to wake her. They still had a few hours before they needed to go in and he wanted to let her rest as long as possible. Plus, he needed to clear his head. He couldn't afford to be distracted if he was going to nail Broadsky.

Booth felt Brennan stir in her sleep; a small smile appeared on her face as she mumbled his name and something about the Kama sutra. He silently chuckled. They would _definitely_ have to have a talk about this dream of hers when all this was over . . .

He looked at the clock and realized he needed to get in the shower if he was going to have time to take Brennan back to her apartment for a change of clothes. He meticulously slid out from underneath her and kissed her cheek before heading to the bathroom.

Fresh from a shower, he walked in a towel into the living room to search for his keys. He noticed Brennan was up and dressed in her clothes from the past day and ready to go out the door.

"Bones? Where are ya goin'?" he stopped her.

"I was going to take a cab to my apartment. I need to go home and change. I thought it was more logical to use my own bathroom than to waste time using yours, when you needed to get ready as well. You need to prepare to capture Broadsky without any delays or distractions," she explained.

He smiled at her practical reasoning and walked toward her.

"Bones, why do you think I had you stay here last night? Broadsky is dangerous. I don't want you goin' anywhere alone," he told her. "Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll take you back to your apartment."

Brennan nodded.

"Booth?" she followed him.

"Yeah, Bones?" he asked, turning around.

She gazed up at him fearfully, leaning in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Please be careful today," she begged.

He took her slender figure in his strong arms and held her. She squeezed him even tighter as if trying to hold onto him as long as she could, in case it was the last time. He loosened their embrace and cupped her chin.

"Promise," Booth vowed and tenderly kissed her.

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They were the last ones left in Founding Fathers after having a ceremonial non-alcoholic drink in honor of Vincent. It had been a very long day, with catching Broadsky and sending off a beloved member of their group. They both sat solemnly, recalling the events of the past two days.

"I wasn't lying when I said that he was my favorite," Brennan broke the silence. "He honestly was . . . He . . ."

"Reminded you of Zach?" he finished for her.

"Yes . . . and myself a little," she revealed. "He was very enthusiastic and always willing to learn and . . . his potential was wasted on a malicious man with a vendetta."

"We got him, Bones. He won't hurt anyone else," Booth told her.

Brennan lovingly stared across the table at him.

"What?" he wondered, grinning innocently.

"Nothing . . . I'm glad you're okay, Booth – that you knocked-up Broadsky and weren't hurt in the process," Brennan said.

"Knocked _out_, Bones. I knocked him _out_," he corrected her. "But yeah, I am, too.

I-I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been," she admitted.

"Hey – don't I always get the bad guys?" he remarked, cockily.

"_Booth_ . . . I'm being serious. Broadsky was a sniper – a _bad_ sniper – not good like you. And he had already killed Vincent, while meaning to kill _you_ . . . weren't you a little bit terrified of the consequences if something went wrong?" she asked.

Booth hesitated. The last thing he wanted to confess to Brennan was his fear. He prided himself on being the hero – unafraid of anything. But he knew she'd get it out of him eventually.

"Yeah, maybe a small part of me was sweating things a little. But I knew I had you and the Squint Squad to back me up . . . You saved my life," he admitted, leaning in to kiss her forehead, then sliding his head down to hers, meeting her eyes. "Really, Bones, thank you."

"That's what partners do," Brennan said, heatedly staring in his eyes.

"Yeah, Bones, that's what we do," he smiled, sexily, and discreetly rubbed her leg under the table. "Come on, let's get outta here."

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"So, I've got beer . . . and . . . some sorta crap that – whoa! _That's_ gettin' pitched . . . _Ooh_ – pudding! I got pudding – chocolate or banana?" Booth offered, rummaging through his practically bare refrigerator. He looked up and saw Brennan timidly standing in the middle of his living room. "Bones? Why are ya still standing there? Take off your jacket, have a seat, stay a while – the night would be even better . . ."

"I apologize . . . I'm slightly unsure of what the status of our relationship is right now . . . I'm uncomfortable with assuming more than what it actually is. Therefore, I was waiting to make myself at home without a proper invitation," she explained.

He put down the pudding and guided her toward the couch.

"Bones, it's not like this is the first time you've been in my apartment. Hell, a few years ago you _broke _into it and barged into my bathroom," Booth shook his head, remembering. "What's goin' on with you?"

"What happened last night . . . what does it mean for us?" she asked.

"Bones, we're good," Booth promised.

Brennan nodded, unsurely.

He sat down beside her and took her hand.

"Hey . . . I love you. I'm not angry anymore. And I was – I was _pissed_ . . . I blamed you for a lot of stupid things . . . like not giving us a chance or forcing a relationship with . . ." he couldn't say her name. Regardless of the fact that he was completely over her, the sound of that name made him cringe.

"Han-" Brennan tried to finish for him.

"Don't say it, Bones! Just _don't_ say her name!" he snapped, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn't mean to, it just came out that way.

Brennan stiffened a little, but it didn't stop her from speaking her mind.

"If you are unable to say or hear her name, then you clearly have unresolved issues concerning your relationship with her. Maybe it's best if I leave. I will talk to you on Monday – Cam gave everyone the rest of the week off," she suggested, getting up to leave.

"No! Bones – wait! It's not what you think – it's not about me and . . . Hannah. It's about me and you . . . what _I_ did. Just sit down," he pulled her back on the couch.

"I still think it would be best if I give you more time. Perhaps last night was a mistake," Brennan said.

"No, Bones – last night wasn't a mistake – _we_ aren't a mistake! _Hannah_ was! I wouldn't admit it, but it's true. I made myself feel something that I really didn't. I thought I was in love with her because I needed to be. I needed to find someone who would love me back," he confessed.

"But Booth I –" Brennan tried to speak.

"Let me finish. Hannah didn't want what I needed either. You saw how she lived when she moved in – just a couple of duffle bags. She never was the type to settle down – at least not with me. And I think she eventually saw how we were together . . . how much I still loved you . . . how much you cared for me. She didn't want to marry me and I don't blame her. Who wants to marry a guy who's in love with someone else?" he lowered his head in shame. "I used her. I didn't mean to - I thought I loved her. She was pretty and fun and kind and smart . . . But it was always you, Bones."

She gave him a bittersweet smile.

"Seeing you with Hannah was very difficult. It made me re-evaluate my past decisions and have a more open mind. You were so happy with her . . . happy and in love. I was happy for you . . . I truly was and I didn't wish you anything but that. You deserved someone who could make you happy . . . But I also envied her. Hannah had the life with you that I had rejected. It made me regret my choice to not pursue a romantic relationship with you, because I finally understood that there were times when taking that risk could be worth it," Brennan admitted.

"I shouldn't have pushed you. I knew you had struggled with forming serious relationships. It wasn't fair to you to give you an ultimatum. But after you turned me down and I found Hannah, I wanted so badly to prove to you that I was fine . . . that I didn't need you . . . that I was in love with someone else. And that night you told me you had regrets . . . a part of me wanted to take you in my arms and never let you go. But most of me wanted to commit to Hannah even more. I did everything for you, Bones – I would have _died_ for you - and you tore my heart out and you stomped on it! Not literally – but it might as well have been. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I'm not proud of it, but that's how I felt," Booth revealed, tearing up from thinking about it.

Brennan took his hand in hers.

"Booth, I never meant to hurt you - I _loved_ you . . . more than I could even admit to myself. I would have died for you, too. You were my partner and one of my best friends and so much more . . . I just couldn't love you the way you needed to be loved – not the decade kind of love – not back then," she told him, her voice quivering. "I was scared to take a risk and make it worse. All you asked for was a chance. But at the time, I felt overwhelmed with your speech about couples in their geriatric years and I didn't see that all you wanted was for us to try. I felt that I would not be able to live up to your expectations and that I would hurt you even more so than I had that night. I honestly thought that I was protecting you from myself - from someone who couldn't make a long-term romantic relationship work."

"And now?" Booth asked.

"Now I am ready . . . to try," she said, confidently.

"That's all I ever asked for," he smiled.

"I can't promise what will happen later on," Brennan clarified.

"No one can, Bones. No one can predict the future," he told her. "But we make an effort for one – a long and happy one."

"I can do that," she agreed.

"So we're giving us another shot?" he asked, making sure they were on the same page.

"Yes. I would like another chance with you very much," she smiled.

"Good," he caressed her cheeks and slowly captured her lips with his.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for reading and for your feedback. It's much loved! :) As you all probably expected, things won't be easy for our couple. But they wouldn't be Brennan & Booth without a little drama and bickering, lol . . ._

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Booth woke up in the middle of the night to find Brennan gone from his side. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that she had just gone home, unable to continue with the new development in their relationship. But he was almost a hundred percent confident that that wasn't the case. She wouldn't run out on him – not like that – not after what they'd shared, after they'd gotten past the anger and the hurt they'd felt toward each other within the past year. They were good. They were better than good. They still had a few issues to work out, but they were beginning to get as close as they had been before that one night – the night that caused a downward spiral in their relationship and in their lives individually – closer, actually. He knew Bones was scared of change, of taking emotional risks, but she was trying. She wanted to be with him, that he was sure of. It was all he could ask for at the moment – a chance to make a life with her.

He frantically searched the bathroom, kitchen - every room in his tiny apartment to no avail. Broadsky was locked up. There was always a chance he'd escape or have someone on the outside go after him, though. He threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and grabbed his jacket. There was only one place she could be – he hoped.

Fortunately his assumptions were spot-on. He walked into the Jeffersonian and found her in the bone room fitting the pieces of what appeared to him to be a thousand year-old skeleton together.

"Bones, what are you doing here – it's three in the morning? You didn't even leave a note," Booth berated.

"I apologize - is that customary in a romantic relationship? I'm very used to being alone and coming and going as I please. I couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake you," she excused.

"Just do me a favor next time and don't let me tear my hair out wondering what the hell happened to you," he requested.

"That's slang for 'worry', am I correct?" she asked.

"Yeah, Bones. I worry about you – I always have. But now more than ever . . . Look, can we just go home and get a few more hours of sleep? We've got the rest of the week off and I'm sure Barney Rubble can wait a few more days or so," he gently tugged at her arm.

She resisted him, continuing to piece together the fragments of bone.

"I don't understand who you are referring to, but this is not a pile of 'rubble'. This male Caucasian was an unknown soldier from the Vietnam War. From the scoring on his right ulna and the fractures on his left tibia I believe him to have been a prisoner of war. And I'd rather identify him than waste my time lying in a bed, unable to sleep," Brennan replied.

"Hey, I know it's hard. But you can't let it affect your _own_ health. If Vincent were here, he'd be spouting off some weirdo factoid about REM cycles or something . . . My point is, it's okay to grieve . . . to feel sad . . . but don't beat yourself up about it to the point where you make yourself sick," Booth advised.

She carefully put down the half-completed skull.

"You're right. I pride myself on being able to compartmentalize and I am failing . . . that's what happens when you form a bond with another human being and allow your emotions to get in the way. Sometimes I wish I was free from relationships of any kind . . . perhaps then, those people I have interacted with wouldn't be harmed," she contemplated moving away from him and searching for more adhesive.

Booth followed and caught her arm.

"Bones, you don't mean that. No one wants to be alone. Everyone needs friends and family . . . a romantic partner . . ." he lifted her chin. "You open yourself up and you risk being hurt, but never feeling those kinds of love that people can give you – that's the worst pain of all."

"I wish . . . I just wish there had been something we could have done for him. He kept saying that he didn't want to leave . . . not to make him leave . . . He was so young and had a lot of potential in this department . . . he didn't deserve to die – _no one_ deserved to die . . ." she trailed off, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I know. But we did everything we could have done to save him. And Broadsky's in prison – at least that's _some_ justice. But don't you think that I know that that bullet was meant for _me_ . . . that_ I_ made Vincent answer _my_ phone? Because I do and it kills me inside to know that it went down like that," he admitted.

"Booth, you couldn't have known. You had no idea that Broadsky was in range. It wasn't your fault," Brennan assured him.

"I know that, and the fact that that son of a bitch is locked up eases the guilt, but it doesn't make the fact that one of our team members was murdered go away. All I'm saying is, you remember the good things about the people you've lost and you try your best to carry on. That's all you can do – you can't change the past," he said.

"Sometimes I wonder if there is any point to this. Why bother to catch all of these murderers if there's always another one out there? There's always someone else who will die, no matter how hard we try to catch them all," she thought, defeated.

"Yeah, there will always be a Broadsky or a Gravedigger or a Gorgonzola," he began.

The corners of Brennan's mouth began to twitch in amusement.

"See, I knew I could make you smile," he teased.

"And you just gave me proof that you always mispronounced the name Gormogon on purpose," she countered.

"All joking aside, we do it because when we nail these bastards, we save lives, Bones. We save _someone's_ life – that's what we do – and that's a lot," he reminded her.

"I suppose your reasoning is conceivable," she conceded. "Not that it's much of a comfort."

"I thought I was the only one with the 'save the world' attitude?" he joked. "Seriously, Bones, one team – even if we _are_ the best – can't save everyone.

"I realize that and I have come to accept it. However, it is difficult to come to terms with it when it affects someone you know," Brennan confessed. "He trusted me . . . all my interns trust me to keep them safe. They apply for the opportunity to gain more experience in anthropology – it isn't supposed to be a life-threatening position, but because I chose to team up with the FBI . . . to work with you . . . it has become one. Because of my selfish motives, one of them was murdered and another . . . he might not be in a mental institution at the moment. And that's not taking into consideration that my entomologist was buried alive . . ."

"Hey . . . come here," Booth pulled her close. "None of that was your fault. You couldn't have predicted any of those things."

She stubbornly pulled away.

"No, but I could have prevented them by not exposing my assistants to those risks," she argued.

"Bones, they _wanted_ to work with you, with Dr. Temperance Brennan. They knew those risks as much as you did – that you being involved with FBI cases could put them at danger at some point. It's very rare, considering that none of them are in the field most of the time, but they could've quit if they didn't want to take those risks. And you did everything in your power to protect them. You may not show it, but I know you love all of them like family - and they love you, too. They realize there's only so much anyone can do in situations like that. No one blames you for that, Bones. And you shouldn't blame yourself, either," he reasoned.

"I realize it's not logical, but I still feel responsible. Maybe I was right to take the job in Maluku or I should go back to working on the historical remains in this facility. At least no one would be harmed because of an association with me," she contemplated.

"Is that what you really want?" Booth held his breath, hoping for the answer he wanted.

She took a long pause.

"No . . . however, it would be the logical decision for the safety of my assistants," she replied. "And now that we are having sexual relations, perhaps it's best if we aren't partners. The FBI has been trying to break us up from the beginning."

"They can't break us up, Bones. We've solved too many cases together for them to warrant a dismissal of our partnership. And the whole dating thing is only frowned upon, anyway. As long as we keep our noses clean and the PDA to a minimum we'll be fine," Booth assured her.

Brennan carefully placed the bones of the soldier back in their box.

"I don't understand what the cleanliness of our nasal passages has to do with the FBI ending our partnership?" she questioned, removing her gloves.

Booth chuckled and affectionately kissed her cheek.

"It's an expression, Bones. It means stay out of trouble, not to put our private lives on display to the public while we're working on a case," he explained.

"Oh. Well, that shouldn't be a problem for us. We have always been completely professional," she said, patting his chest. "However, I _would_ like to experiment with a little PDA, right now . . ."

"Bones, the reason why it's called PDA is because other people can see us," Booth reminded her.

"You are correct," she smiled coyly, taking his hand and leading him out the door, past the night guard, Micah.

"Daring, Bones. You're the next Katy Perry," he teased as they waved 'goodbye'.

"I'm not sure what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment," she replied and timidly kissed him on their way out the door.

He deepened the kiss, knowing Micah wouldn't care.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talkin' about, baby!" he grinned.

"I find you very strange sometimes," she laughed.

"Likewise, Bones. Likewise. But that's what makes us great together," he put his arm around her waist as they walked out of the almost vacant building.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you all for reading and for commenting - feedback is appreciated! :) I'm upping the rating - would rather be safe than sorry. Enjoy!:)_

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Booth opened his sleepy eyes to find Brennan's naked body tangled with his own. It felt good . . . right . . . like it was the way they should've been a long time ago. She soon opened her eyes as well to find him staring at her.

"What?" she smiled.

"You're beautiful," Booth grinned.

"I know," Brennan replied.

"You really make me work to compliment you," he chuckled, kissing her shoulder.

"You were stating a fact. My bone structure, like yours, consists of elements conducive to a positive hormonal reaction in most men and even some women," she argued.

"True – except mine's more with women. But can't you gimme a break once in a while?" he pleaded.

"I suppose so," she relented, nibbling on his ear. "Are we telling people we're having sexual intercourse?"

Leave it to Bones to just put it out there . . .

"We _made love_, Bones," Booth corrected her. "Not that anyone needs to know the details. What's between us is ours, okay?"

Brennan nodded.

" . . . By people, you mean excluding Angela - since she obviously knows?" he guessed.

"You could tell?" Brennan propped herself up on his chest.

"She gave me a look last night, when we were singing and you grabbed my arm. And later on at the pub she mentioned something to me about life and holding onto love. So yeah, I have a feeling she knows," he answered.

"I had to tell someone. And I knew she wouldn't judge me for the timing of it," Brennan defended.

"I'm not mad, Bones. But I do think, considering the circumstances, that we should wait a while to let anyone else know – especially Sweets. His first observation will be that we reacted out of the need for comfort in a time of tragedy," he scoffed.

"That is true to some extent. I went to your room because I needed reassurance. You gave me that," she recalled.

"Yeah, but it was also about us and not wasting any more time," Booth added.

"Yes. It was," Brennan agreed. "Do you think we can manage to keep it in the download for two or more weeks?"

Booth laughed.

"Keep it _on_ the down-_low_, Bones. And yeah, I think we can. What's between us is ours. We'll just act normal. Besides, it'll be fun sneakin' around for a while," he flirted.

"I have never done that before, but I've heard it can be a very invigorating experience," Brennan smiled, coyly, and teased his lips.

"Mmmm . . . so I was thinking maybe we could drive up to New York, today . . . see the Yankees . . . go to the Museum of Natural History . . . get a five star hotel room and take advantage of room service?" Booth suggested, kissing her neck. It was rare that they had a long weekend and he thought maybe a trip would get both of their minds off of the tragedy and give them some time to just enjoy their new relationship.

"We can see Yankees in D.C., Booth – _you and I_ are Yankees, as deemed by the Southern Rebels in the Civil War. But I _would_ like to go back to the Museum of Natural History. I heard that they have a very interesting display on an unidentified Egyptian queen. Perhaps I can persuade them to bring the mummified remains back to the Jeffersonian?" she contemplated.

"The Yankees are a baseball team, Bones. And no work, okay?" Booth insisted. "I want us to be able to relax and have fun. Neither of us has had a vacation in a while."

"Your invitation does sound quite intriguing . . . especially the room service idea," she grinned slyly and straddled him, kissing her way down his chest.

He pulled her lips to his, running his fingers through her hair, when his phone rang. They both groaned.

"Booth," he responded.

"I hate to tear you away from your free day of booze and violent sports, cher, - not that you don't deserve it - but we've got a major security issue on our hands," Caroline replied.

"What's the problem, Caroline?" he wondered.

"Your sniper friend has escaped," she informed him. "If I were you, cher, I'd get that pretty doctor you claim you don't love somewhere safe and your cute ass down to the bureau."

"I'm on my way," he said and hung up.

"What was that about?" Brennan asked.

"It's Broadsky. He escaped from holding last night. They were supposed to transfer him today. I guess he slipped the night guards something . . . I don't know the details yet, but I've gotta get to the office and you need to be somewhere Broadsky won't know to look," Booth told her.

"Booth, I can help you find him," she insisted. "I'll call Angela and Hodgins and –"

"No - Bones, this is between me and Broadsky this time. I know you want to help, but I need you safe. I need to know you're okay so I can concentrate on bringing him down for good this time," he explained.

"We helped you the last time. What's the difference now?" she wondered.

"Broadsky knows I was upset about Vincent. If he can't find me, he'll start going after the rest of the Squint Squad and that includes you. Call the team and tell them it might be a good idea for them to go out of town this weekend," he said.

"Okay. But I won't go with them – not when you're in danger, Booth," she insisted.

"You're not. You're going somewhere safer," he told her and dialed a number on his phone. "Max? It's Booth. Listen, can you do me a favor?"

Brennan tried to pry the phone out of his hand.

"_Booth, no!_ I can take care of myself –" she protested.

"Is that Tempe I hear in the background?" Max questioned, happily.

Booth swatted her hand away, but she retaliated.

"Ow! _Jesus, Bones! You don't mess with the Family Jewels!_" he exclaimed, holding the phone out of Max's earshot.

"I still fail to see how your male genitalia has any resemblance to precious gemstones," she stomped off, muttering something about partnership and trust, and slammed the door to the bathroom.

"Yeah, Max, she's here. But I need you to listen. Broadsky's escaped. I need you to take care of Bones in case he decides to go after her," he requested.

"Of course," Max said.

"Thanks," Booth told him.

"You don't have to thank me, Booth. Tempe is my daughter, and I may not have been there for her in the past, but I'm trying to make up for that," he said.

"Just do whatever you need to do to make sure she's safe," Booth replied. "I can't let anything happen to her."

"You kids are sleeping together, aren't you?" Max assumed, a hint of hope in his tone.

"We'll be at the diner in an hour, Max," Booth avoided answering his question and hung up. He found Brennan in the bathroom, taking a shower. He ripped open the curtain to talk to her.

"Ya know, Bones, if you want a kid someday, I hope you still have that supply of my stuff from a few years ago. Seriously – _what the hell?_" he exclaimed.

"You don't trust me," she stated, matter-of-factly, shampooing her hair.

"Where did you get that idea?" he wondered.

"_You called my father?_" she questioned, slamming the bottle down. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Booth! And you need help. We're partners - I won't let you do this alone. Y-You could . . ." she trailed off.

Booth took one look at her fearful face and his anger dissolved. He got in the shower with her, pulling her in his arms.

"I've always trusted you, Bones. And you won't lose me. Besides, I'm taking Sweets – he's the best when it comes to all that psycho crap," he assured her.

Brennan nodded.

"You'll stay in touch? Keep me informed of everything?" she asked.

"You bet. If I have anything that needs scientific expertise, you're the first one I'm callin'," he smiled, wiping soap away from her eyes.

"_Everything_, Booth. I need to be informed of what's going on. I need to know –" she insisted.

"That I'm okay. I get it – and I will. It'll be fine, Bones. I'm gonna get Broadsky and I won't let him off easy this time," he vowed.

"Are you comfortable with that . . . with killing Broadsky?" she asked.

"I'm never okay with it, Bones. A life is a life – good or bad. But this guy has to be stopped. I – I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" he said.

"I understand," she said. "When do you have to leave?"

He briefly kissed her lips.

"As soon as we get ready," he answered, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Broadsky now has a fractured right tibia in addition to his bruised right hand; that will limit his shooting advantages. He will have difficulty shooting from above, without an elevator to aid him. It will also immobilize him from running," she offered her knowledge and the shampoo bottle.

He took it from her and washed his hair.

"Yeah, that'll make it a lot easier . . . Unless . . . he must have someone on the outside helping him. There's no way he could've gotten out without it. And he couldn't have gone far," he contemplated.

"That's not necessarily true, Booth. With someone driving him, Broadsky could be as far as three or four states away by now," Brennan pointed out as she washed his body, massaging his shoulders and back.

"Mmmm . . . Bones, you gotta stop doin' that or I'll never get out of here," Booth moaned with pleasure.

"Massage is a form of relieving tension from the muscles of the body. You need to be relaxed and free from stress in order to prepare to catch Broadsky," she replied.

"Yeah, well there are other parts of my body that are far from relaxed right now, so I think we need to pick this up later, okay, babe?" Booth said, teasing her bottom lip for the effort. "We should get dressed. The sooner I go, the sooner this'll all be over."

"I agree," she said, reluctantly stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. "I'll need to stop by my apartment on the way."

He followed, taking one for himself.

"Sure. And I'm, uh, I'm gonna clean out a drawer for you when this is over," he said, hoping it would be a positive outcome.

"Thank you. I should do the same at mine. It's more practical that way," she stated, unable to see the sentiment of it.

"You know what this means, right?" he asked, putting on his pants.

"Yes. That we will be saving gas and time on the days we spend over at each other's apartments," she replied, putting on her blouse.

"Yeah. But it _also_ means you're stuck with me, Bones," he flirted. "Well, at least a drawer full of my stuff."

"I am . . . open to taking that risk," she smirked.

"You just made a joke," Booth grinned, tying his tie.

"Yes, I did," she smiled proudly, handing him his 'Cocky' belt.

"You ready?" he asked, bringing the mood back to reality.

"I will never be ready for something like this . . . but I am confident in your skills and I believe you will do the best with your capabilities," Brennan answered, honestly.

"Thank you, Bones, that means a lot," he smiled and took in a deep nervous breath. "Let's go."

"Booth . . ." she stopped him. "I won't be able to tell you later on . . . but I'm glad I have you in my life . . . and I hope our new arrangement will not be altered by the impending events . . . I-I love you, Booth."

"I love you too, Bones," Booth said and held her close. He knew it was hard for her to become vulnerable with someone. It meant revealing her weaknesses and emotions, her deepest fears. She had gotten a lot better since he'd known her, but the past few days had been different. She'd let him in completely and he hoped that that wouldn't change.

Brennan pulled away and pressed her lips to his one last time.

"We should go," she said, unconvincingly.

"Yeah," he said, opening the door.

"If I don't see you –" she began, tears starting to run down her face.

He gently wiped them away, trying to control his own.

"You'll see me, Bones. I'm coming back to you. I'll always come back to you," Booth promised, squeezing her hand and leading the way.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you so much for reading and for your feedback - it's much loved! This chapter is a little shorter, but there will be more to come soon. :)_

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"C'mon, Sweets, let's go! _Chop! Chop!_" Booth commanded, dragging Lance out of his office.

"Is he always this demanding at the start of a case?" Lance asked Caroline.

"I have a feeling Agent Seeley Booth has a lady friend waiting for him," she replied.

"Hey – I just don't like my vacation being interrupted – especially by a bastard like Broadsky," Booth excused. "Now what've we got on him?"

"The security tapes are all blank after midnight. Nothing phony about 'em before that," Caroline answered.

"Even the ones on the outside?" Booth inquired.

"I'll call the prison. Meantime, you boys better not just sit around lookin' handsome," she advised.

"I'll pull up a suspect list. Broadsky still has a few people who'd do him favors. And someone has to be helping him," Booth said.

"Yeah, with his leg being injured, he couldn't have gone far without it," Lance agreed. "Was there anyone interviewed the last time that seemed like they still had ties with Broadsky?"

Booth thought for a moment, then pulled out the previous list.

"Leishenger's dead . . ." Booth said and looked at the rest of the possibilities.

"Did Broadsky have any family?" Lance asked.

"Just the girlfriend," Booth answered. "But she could be our key . . ."

"You think she helped him escape?" Lance wondered.

"Your tapes are on their way. Any luck finding suspects?" Caroline inquired.

"We think Broadsky's girlfriend might have some information for us. Sweets is gonna interview her," Booth answered and looked at Lance who nodded in agreement.

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"Hey, Bones," Booth greeted her over the phone late that night. "We finally tracked down Broadsky. Turns out, after talking with Broadsky's girlfriend, Broadsky has a son with her – Jordan Randall. And Randall drove a black Prius with unregistered plates out of state the same night Broadsky went missing. They're in a small town outside of Wheeling, West Virginia."

"Are you there right now?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah, in some flea-bag hotel waiting for Broadsky to show his face," he replied. "I'm takin' a break – Sweets is my lookout guy right now."

"I hope you're not staying there, Booth. You could contract multiple communicable diseases from a place like that," she told him.

"Yeah, I know. I borrowed your x-ray vision thingy and this place is disgusting," he agreed.

"It's a black light, Booth," Brennan corrected him.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I may have to stay here if Broadsky doesn't come out soon. I need a clear shot," he explained.

"Be careful . . . Tell Dr. Sweets to do the same. He isn't suspicious of your calling me, is he?" she wondered.

"Nah," Booth lowered his voice and walked in the bathroom out of earshot in case Sweets came back inside. "I told him you wanted to know what was goin' on because of the situation. He knows you're still my partner and you care."

"Good. The last thing you need right now is one of his psychological analyses," she remarked. "Do you need my help with anything? Aside from sharing more memories of my mother, Dad's been trying to distract me with board games and poker."

"Is it working?" he asked.

"Games that have very little intellectual stimulus?" she answered.

"Right. But cards – I bet you're kicking his ass at that and lovin' it!" Booth guessed.

"My dad and I _did_ have a few enjoyable rounds of Blackjack. But I'd rather be in the lab or in the field assisting you," Brennan replied.

"I know. Look, I'd better go before Sweets thinks something's goin' on," he said.

"I think my dad already does. He continues to ask me questions about my recent sexual partners and yours as well," she added.

"I doubt he asked that, Bones," Booth smirked.

"Well, that _is_ what he was referring to," she argued.

"So what did you tell him?" Booth asked.

"I said that I preferred not to discuss it with him, and that your sexual encounters were your personal business," Brennan told him.

"I'm impressed . . . He didn't buy it, did he?" he assumed.

"He didn't question me anymore . . . however, every time I mentioned your name or that I hoped you were alright, he smiled at me as if he was aware of something I wasn't," she answered. "Of course, he has always assumed that you and I were more than partners."

"True. It'll be fun stringin' old Max along for a few more weeks," Booth mused. "Your dad's very perceptive, but we won't let him have the satisfaction of knowing it just yet."

She giggled.

"This is going to be quite enjoyable . . . But you should go," she advised.

"Right," he agreed, reluctantly.

"Booth?" Brennan said.

"Yeah, Bones?" he answered.

"Please be careful," Brennan pleaded.

"I will. I'll call you tomorrow morning . . . And I – you know," he told her discreetly.

"I love you, too," she said, hanging up.

Booth smiled. He'd never get tired of hearing her say that. But as he walked back up to the roof, he realized he needed to get the stupid grin off his face before he gave himself away.

"You and Dr. Brennan had a very long conversation," he observed.

"So?" Booth shrugged.

"Would you like to discuss it?" Lance offered.

"It's none of your damn business, Sweets! Now tell me what you found out," Booth snapped. Honestly, that kid needed to get a life of his own.

"Dr. Brennan must be going through a difficult time right now. She'd worked closely with Vincent and developed a bond with him as his mentor. To watch him die in front of her has to have a traumatic effect on her life. On yours, too, Agent Booth," Sweets analyzed. "And now her partner is facing danger, once again, at the hands of the man who killed her intern. I'm sure you guys had a lot to say to each other."

"Look, Sweets. I told you this is _not_ the time," Booth insisted.

"It's perfectly natural for two surviving victims to seek support in one another after a tragedy. They share common interests and fears, a mutual understanding of each other's emotions. It's a great coping mechanism," Lance continued.

"Put a sock in it, Sweets!" Booth demanded. "Bones and I are fine – we don't need you constantly analyzing us! Just stick to helping me take down Broadsky and everything can get back to normal again – me and Bones in the field and you in your little shrink office . . ."

"_Ah!_ And that right there is a perfect indicator that you are _not_ fine. _Denial_ that something is wrong yet the _admittance_ that you want your life to return to how it was–" Lance relentlessly continued.

Booth grabbed Lance by the collar.

"Sweets, I swear to god, if you don't shut your freakin' trap I'll –" Booth threatened, until he noticed someone moving on the opposite side of the hotel. "That's Broadsky!"

"What? Where?" Lance asked.

"There – getting ice out of the machine," Booth pointed.

"How can you tell it's him?" Lance wondered.

"Jesus, Sweets! Weren't you paying attention while I took a break? Because he's got a crutch, he's favoring his left leg, and he just came out of room 107," he explained. "I don't have time to babysit you on this! Move! We've gotta be quick. What's the wind speed?"

"4 mph from the northwest," Lance said.

Booth lined up his target, but wasn't fast enough. Broadsky had gone back inside.

"Damn it!" Booth exclaimed.

"Wait – Booth, he's coming out again – with Randall. They're headed for the car," he noticed. "Wind speed is 2 mph northwest."

Booth aimed the gun and fired. Broadsky instantly fell to the ground. However, Randall instinctively fired back. Booth took a shot at him merely a second afterward and attempted to protect them both . . . then everything turned black.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you all for reading and for the feedback - it's greatly appreciated! :) I won't keep you in suspense any longer . . ._

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Booth felt like a semi had run over him. He opened his eyes to an overly illuminated room and immediately closed them again. Why the hell were hospitals so freakin' bright?

"Booth?" Brennan stood over him, anxiously.

"Hey, Bones," he smiled, groggily, and forced his eyes open again. "We got 'em."

"I know," she smiled back, then grabbed his hand and hesitated for a moment. "Randall had some internal bleeding from the bullet you put in his abdomen. He . . . died during the surgical procedure."

"Two more to add to the list," Booth sighed.

"They were _bad_ men, Booth – _criminals_. And one of them was a _murderer_. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but what you did was _good_. You prevented more innocent people from being killed . . . and I'm proud of you," Brennan told him.

"Thanks, Bones. I guess that's something," he agreed, still not convinced what he'd done should be celebrated. It was his job. He did what he had to do to protect innocent citizens of his country and the ones he cared about . . . Sweets! "How's Sweets? Is the kid okay?"

"He's fine. His right clavicle was bruised from the impact, but he suffered no other injuries," Brennan assured him.

"Good," he answered, relieved. He knew taking him in the field was risky, but Sweets was secretly the only FBI associate he trusted, besides Caroline. He was a pain in the ass, but knowledgeable in reading the perps.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, gently brushing his hair back.

"_You_ tell _me_, Dr. Brennan," Booth said, noticing his arm was in a sling and the left side of his chest hurt like hell.

"The bullet was millimeters from your heart and you have a fractured left rib and right radius," she told him.

"Guess it could've been worse," he remarked.

"I'm glad it wasn't," she said and stole a brief kiss after checking the window on the door for on-lookers.

_God he'd missed her. _Less than two days away from her - that's all it took. It was pathetic, but true.

"We're taking that trip when I get outta here," he grinned. "Hell or high water, we're gettin' a real vacation, baby!"

"You will still need time to recover – strenuous activities delay the process of healing. And I will have already exceeded the vacation time Cam allowed us at the Jeffersonian by the time you are physically able to travel," Brennan argued. "She stopped by earlier today, but you were sleeping."

Booth smiled and nodded. Cam was a good friend – and a good person - which was why he knew she wouldn't mind giving Brennan some well-deserved time off.

"Bones, enough with work, okay? I'm sure you have a ton of free days you can use and Cam will understand," Booth attempted to convince her.

"How will we explain our simultaneous absences?" she countered.

"That I'm still recovering and you decided to take some time off until I could get back in the field again. Do you really wanna work with another partner?" he asked, cockily.

"No . . ." she began.

"Then it's settled," he said.

"_But Booth . . ._" she objected.

"No 'buts', Bones. We're goin'!" he insisted.

"Going where?" Lance asked, opening the door.

"Don't you ever knock?" Booth retorted, hoping it was enough to deter Sweets' curiosity.

"Where are you and Dr. Brennan planning on going?" Lance repeated.

"To the cafeteria! Booth loves pudding and he insisted on going with me," Brennan covered.

"Do you think that's wise in his condition?" Lance questioned.

"No . . . that's why we were arguing over it . . . _I_ told him he needed to stay in bed and get his rest, but _he_, being strong, stubborn, and with alpha male tendencies is still protesting," she answered, then turned to Booth. "I'll be back – _don't go anywhere!_"

"So, Dr. Brennan seems very protective of you," Lance observed.

"I'm in a hospital, Sweets. What'd you expect her to do – force me to run a marathon?" Booth countered.

"Do you feel like running one?" he asked.

"What the hell kinda question is that? Yeah, Sweets, I do. I feel like doing anything that'll get me as far away from you and your pre-pubescent head-shrinking crap as possible," Booth remarked, sarcastically.

"Those are some rough blows, Agent Booth. Is there something bothering you?" Lance wondered.

"Only you, kid. Other than that, life couldn't be lookin' more promising . . ." he sighed, happily.

"Something specific?" Lance inquired.

"Broadsky's dead . . . no one else on our team suffered . . . and I get a few weeks off to do nothin' but relax on the couch and watch ESPN. That enough for ya?" Booth replied.

"I guess so," Lance said, giving up for the moment. "I hope you have a fast recovery . . . And thanks."

"For what?" he asked.

"For saving my life out there," Lance clarified.

"No problem – just doin' my job," Booth said, modestly. "Now get out."

"Right. We'll talk later," he said and left.

Brennan returned soon after.

"I didn't know what you felt like so I got chocolate, banana, and chocolate and vanilla swirl," she said, putting the pudding and a couple of plastic spoons down on his tray.

"Nice save back there, Bones," Booth smiled at her then reached for the chocolate and winced.

She took it and opened it for him.

"I'm a very quick thinker," she stated. "What did Dr. Sweets have to say?"

"Nothin'. Just the usual shrink stuff," he said, attempting to feed himself. "Aaahh . . . Bones, could you, you know?"

"Here," she smiled and brought the spoon to his mouth. "You wouldn't be faking your basic motor skills in order to be pampered like a small child, would you?"

"Now what could possibly possess me to do something like that?" he flirted.

Brennan took the spoon and intentionally got chocolate on his nose.

"_Bones . . .!_" Booth half-heartedly protested.

"Don't worry, I'll get it off . . ." she promised, leaning in to kiss him just as someone opened the door.

They both turned to face them, Booth still with pudding on his nose.

"I'd better not be seeing what I think I see," Caroline entered the room.

The couple froze.

"Booth wanted some pudding . . . With his limited mobility, he couldn't feed it to himself so I was helping him," Brennan excused.

"Sure you were, cherie. And I would only 'feed' Denzel Washington if I had the chance," Caroline smirked.

"Who's Denzel Washington?" she asked Booth, gently wiping his nose with a napkin.

"Only the finest man and actor on earth. Now, back to whatever you two are or aren't doin' with each other. _Stop it_ – in public anyway. That teenage doctor of yours will have the FBI split you up if he finds out about your extracurricular activities so soon after a case as big as this one was," Caroline advised. ". . . But on a personal level - I say _it's about damn time!_"

Brennan and Booth looked at each other, half-guilty and half-relieved.

"Caroline, Bones and I . . . we're not . . . it's not what you think," Booth insisted.

"Sure it isn't," she remarked, disbelievingly.

"No, Booth and I are strictly professional. The thought of us together in a sexual manner is simply laughable," Brennan added.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Bones," Booth attempted to stop her.

"I-I've seen Booth naked before, and honestly, I've witnessed much more defined and endowed male figures," she continued.

"I think she gets the picture Bones," he said, annoyed.

"His pectorals and abdominal muscles could benefit from more workouts at the gym and as far as his –" Brennan went on.

"_That's enough, Bones!_" he yelled.

"You wanna know what I think?" Caroline said.

"What?" they wondered.

"I think you two aren't foolin' anyone but yourselves," she shook her head and left.

Booth turned back to Brennan.

"What the hell was that?" he exclaimed.

"What? I don't understand why you're so upset, Booth. I was merely helping you convince Caroline that I wanted nothing to do with you on a sexual level," she innocently said.

"_'You've seen more defined and endowed men'?_" he protested.

"It's true . . . Not in person, but on an anthropological level I have witnessed photos of more . . . prominent species of men," Brennan answered.

"And . . .?" Booth prompted.

"And none of them impressed me as much as your physical structure does," she stated.

"You're not just sayin' that?" he asked, timidly.

"I do not believe in placating one's ego," she assured him.

"Thanks, Bones," he snuck a kiss from her. "You know you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen, too."

"I know," she said, then smiled, stealing another kiss. "We need to stop this before someone else catches on."

"Why don't you go get me my release forms and we won't have to," Booth suggested.

"_Booth, no!_" she objected. "As much as I enjoy putting out like teenagers, you are in no condition to be going anywhere right now."

"It's _making_ out, Bones – you _make_ out like teenagers – although some teens probably do the other thing . . . Anyway, I'm fine. Besides, I'll have a doctor by my side . . ." he grinned.

"I'm not a medical doctor, Booth," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't take care of me," he said. "C'mon, Bones . . . you . . . me . . . a bottle of wine . . . one of your famous massages . . ."

"When you are officially released from the hospital by a certified medical doctor, I will consider it – but not until then," Brennan stood her ground.

"Fine," Booth groaned. "You're still keepin' me company though, right?"

"I won't leave your side – well, at least not for long," she promised. "Do you need anything?"

"Yeah . . . my lips are sore," he complained, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"_You_ are incorrigible," she rolled her eyes and scoped out the door before kissing him again.

Booth chuckled then held his chest.

"Ow – that hurts . . . Could you get me some more of that pudding, too, babe?" he requested.

"Here," she handed a spoonful to him. "You're feeding yourself."

"Bones . . ." he whined, giving her sad puppy-eyes. "It hurts . . ."

"Stop it, Booth – you know I can't refuse that expression," she giggled.

"_Exactly_," he grinned, just as Angela popped her head in the room.

"Hey, you two," she smiled. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

"Hey, Ang. I'm okay. How 'bout you – you ready for that kid to come out?" Booth asked.

"Ugh . . . Like you wouldn't believe . . . ! Congratulations, by the way," she patted his good arm and eyed Brennan.

"Ang, we're not –" Brennan began to warn her.

"I meant about getting Broadsky, silly!" she clarified, sitting down. "My lips are sealed about the other thing. But can I say –_ Hallelujah, it finally happened!_"

"Why do people keep saying stuff like that?" Booth wondered.

Brennan shrugged.

"_Hello!_ Have you seen you two together? Because all of us have, and this 'will they – won't they?' rollercoaster you've been on for over six years has been like Chinese water torture for us," Angela whispered.

Booth and Brennan blushed.

"So when _are_ you telling everyone – 'cause Hodgins is really starting to get on my case about why I kicked him out the other day," Angela asked.

"Go ahead and tell him, Ang. We don't want our relationship to affect yours and Hodgins', right Booth?" Brennan said.

"Bones . . . are you sure he can keep a secret?" Booth muttered.

"I trust that Dr. Hodgins is perfectly capable of keeping private information exactly that," Brennan answered.

"Okay . . . but if he lets it leak early – fire him," Booth insisted.

"_Booth!_" Brennan and Angela protested.

"Hey – it's perfectly justified. Our working relationship would more than likely be affected, so his should be too," Booth defended his reasoning.

"Trust me, Booth – I will put the fear of god _and_ my father into my husband if he opens his mouth about it before you guys do," Angela promised.

Booth smiled.

"Your dad's a pretty scary guy, from what I've heard," he commented.

"_Oh, yeah_," Angela grinned and carefully got up with Brennan's help. "Well, I'd better let you get some rest. Plus, this kid is making me pee every five minutes. See you guys later. And let us know if there's anything we can do."

"You do the same," Brennan said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Later, Ang!" Booth replied then looked at the clock and back at Brennan. "I think visiting hours are probably over. Why don't you come over here and help keep the bed warm?"

"Are you cold? I can ask one of the nurses for an extra blanket," Brennan offered.

"It's an expression, Bones. Just get over here, okay?" he said.

"Are you sure I won't be harming you in any way?" she asked, timidly.

"Lie on my right side and you'll be fine," he assured her.

"Okay," Brennan took off her shoes and gingerly crawled in beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Are you comfortable?"

"Perfect," he reassured her, kissing her temple.

"Perfection doesn't exist . . . while we strive to achieve flawlessness, it is still open to an individual's interpretation," Brennan corrected him.

"Okay . . . well _in my opinion_, you being right here beside me is the perfect end to my day," Booth told her.

"Mine, too," she agreed, snuggling as close as she could without hurting him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you all for reading and for the feedback - it's really appreciated! :) Here is the next chapter . . ._

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Two weeks had gone by. Booth was out of the hospital and back at his apartment. Brennan had opted to work strictly in the Jeffersonian until Booth was well enough to be cleared for the field again. Given the previous events, no one questioned her request.

As far as their relationship went, Brennan had all but moved in with Booth in order to take care of him – going back and forth between the lab and his apartment during the weekdays, making sure he had food and anything else he needed. It was different to see that side of her – the nurturing, overly caring side of her. He loved it – except when it cramped his style – like going anywhere outside of his apartment. He was going stir-crazy.

"So I'm feeling a lot better, Bones. What do ya say we take that trip this weekend? I promise I'll get you back on Tuesday," Booth suggested, flipping through the channels on the TV.

"Booth, I'm not sure traveling for that long is practical in your condition," Brennan objected, putting the last of the groceries in his fridge. "If you think you are up for outdoor exposure, we can take a short walk along the Mall."

"I don't wanna take a walk along the Mall. I see the Mall a thousand times a week," he complained, scratching an itch inside of his splint.

"That is definitely an exaggeration," she pointed out and took the metal probe away from him. "Stop scratching, Booth!"

He looked at her with pleading eyes.

"But, Bones, it itches . . .!" he whined.

She didn't budge, only gave him that disapproving look she got when she knew that even _he_ knew he was being childish.

"Fine . . ." he pouted. He couldn't wait for the damn thing to come off. "Anyway, the point is I wanna go somewhere I don't get to go very often - somewhere with beer and hot dogs and sweaty men hitting a ball with wooden stick in an old past time game. I wanna go somewhere far away from labs and the bureau and possible crime scenes and people we have to hide this from – somewhere we can just be us for a while. C'mon, Bones. You _know_ you want to . . ."

Brennan sat beside him and contemplated his request for a moment.

"You can't mix alcohol with vicodin and you don't even get your splint off until next week –" she reminded him.

"But you were about to say 'yes' anyway, weren't you?" Booth eagerly anticipated.

"I didn't say that. The most logical decision is to wait until after then. After all, we were supposed to make the most of this time away from everyone else, I am correct?" Brennan asked, teasing his lips.

"That's true," he muttered into her mouth. "Waiting until I'm fully mobile again might be a better idea for both of us."

"I would very much like to experience a round of coitus when we are both at our highest physical and emotional peaks," Brennan smiled as she kissed him again.

"Me, too. But do you have to call it that? It sounds so clinical and . . ." Booth complained.

"Dirty?" she laughed. "Booth, that _is_ a proper term for the act we would be engaging in."

"Yeah, but can't you be . . . I don't know . . ._ improper_ when it comes to that?" he pleaded.

"I prefer not to use colloquialisms as a common practice. However, considering our new arrangement, I will try to be more accommodating of your sensitivities on the subject," she conceded.

"I'm not sensitive, Bones. I just think that when you have sex with someone you care about . . . someone you _love_, you shouldn't label it like one of your scientific experiments – that's all," he clarified.

"I suppose you have a point. We aren't lab rats," she said.

"Definitely not," he agreed.

"We are two consenting adults engaging in one of the most physically and emotionally intimate practices one can have," Brennan stated.

"Exactly. And since we both want to fully enjoy that experience as well as the others I mentioned, maybe you're right. Maybe we should wait on the trip," Booth decided. "But we're still going. _Nothing_ is gonna stop us from taking some _real_ time off."

"I agree. I would like to have a chance to get away at some point. Perhaps we could go to New York for the holidays. It's beautiful at Christmas time from what I've heard," Brennan suggested.

"Whoa! Bones – that's like seven months away! I meant soon – like after I get all these splints and crap off but before they clear me for the field again," he told her.

"Oh. I was only thinking that we had more vacation time during the holidays," she said.

"Are we having this whole argument all over again?" he groaned. "Take some personal days, Bones. You have like a thousand of them. You _never_ miss a day of work – even when you're sick. And thanks for that, by the way, 'cause I _love_ being exposed to the flu and everything else. I don't get _nearly_ enough of it with Parker . . . _Parker!_ Damn it! I almost forgot! Rebecca would've killed me!"

"Is this your weekend to have him?" Brennan assumed.

"Yeah . . . It was supposed to be two weekends ago, but I was in the hospital and the weekend after, she and her new boyfriend had already planned some sort of trip with him," he answered and searched for his keys.

"Where are you going? You know you can't drive, Booth," she warned him.

"I know – _you_ are," he said and tossed her the keys with his good arm.

"Me? Is that wise? Perhaps I should go back to the lab or to my apartment," she said, hesitantly.

"Why? Parker won't mind. He likes hangin' out with Dr. Bones. He thinks you're cool," Booth assured her.

"He does, doesn't he," she mused. "However, considering the new development in our relationship, I think it might be best if I go home. He or Rebecca could suspect something if I am there with you to pick him up."

"Bones . . . Hey, don't think that I want to hide you from anyone. It's the exact opposite – I wanna tell everyone we know how much I love you and how happy we are together. In fact, I was just gonna suggest that we go ahead and tell Parker and Rebecca tonight. They have no ties with our co-workers, so them finding out won't be an issue," Booth said.

"Are you sure you want to do this so soon? Shouldn't Parker be prepared a little more before we start showing up for his visitations together?" Brennan wondered, unsure.

"How 'bout this? How about I take a cab to Rebecca's, have a talk with her and then one with Parker on our way to meet you at the diner? We'll have dinner, hang out, and see how it goes, okay?" he bargained.

"That sounds reasonable. I will meet you there in an hour," Brennan agreed.

"Good. C'mere," he grinned and gave her a lingering kiss. "It'll be great – I promise."

"Booth, you have no idea what anyone's reaction to our union will be – especially Parker's. He's a child in his pre-teenage years. They can be very sensitive to change," Brennan replied.

"Parker's different – _we're_ different. It's not like he doesn't know you. We've all hung out over the years. The only difference will be that you're now a bigger part of my life than before. It won't change his relationship with me. He knows that. Everything will be okay – don't worry," he assured her.

"But Booth, I think –" she began to object.

Booth pressed his lips to hers, leaving her slightly bewildered.

"No thinking allowed, okay? Just trust me," Booth insisted.

Brennan nodded, still unconvinced as he left.

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"Hey . . . Parker ready to go?" Booth asked as Rebecca opened the door.

"He's upstairs getting his bag. You sure you're up for him?" she wondered, skeptically eyeing his injuries.

"Not a problem. I'm much better than before . . . Uh . . . can we talk for a minute?" he requested.

"Okay . . ." she said, inviting him in. "Is something wrong?"

"No – no. Everything's great – _really_ great . . . I . . . I found someone," Booth began.

"Oh?" she replied.

"You know her, actually . . . It's Brennan," he said.

"_Temperance_ Brennan . . . your partner? The woman who rejected you a year ago, causing you to traipse off to Afghanistan despite the fact that you had already fulfilled your duties in the military and had a son? Are you sure this is a good idea, Seeley? I know you're getting over Hannah, but is this really a good decision for you or for Parker? I'm not sure he should get too attached to her until you're positive she'll stick around," Rebecca advised.

"I'm not doing this with you, Rebecca. I'm not fighting, okay? Bones has changed – she's ready to commit. I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to be," he insisted.

"I just don't want to see you or our son get hurt," she told him.

"We won't. I wouldn't bring Parker into this if I didn't think it was serious. Bones is the one . . . we're not rushing things, but _she's the one_," Booth confessed, unable to keep the grin from forming on his face. It was the first time he'd said it out loud . . . but Temperance Brennan was the only woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.

"It's really weird that you still call her that . . . but I'm happy for you, Seeley," she smiled. "I'll go get Parker."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did they have to break your bones and put them back together again?" Parker asked while he and Booth rode in the cab.

Booth shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah, bub, I think they had to do something like that to set them for the splint. I wasn't awake for it though, so I'm not sure," he told him. "But listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Are you asking another girl to marry you?" Parker guessed.

"Where'd you get that idea?" Booth chuckled.

"That's usually what happens when you get all serious – that or you're going away," Parker answered.

"No, pal, I'm not going away. And I'm not getting married either - but would it be so bad if I _did_ some day?" he asked his son.

"I guess not . . . But you just seemed so sad after that Hannah lady took off . . . Why would you wanna ask a girl again?" Parker wondered.

"Because when you love someone very much and you want to spend the rest of your life with them, you ask them to marry you. Not knowing if they'll say 'yes' or not is the chance you take," Booth explained. "So back to what I wanted to tell you - you remember Dr. Brennan, right?"

"The bone lady? Yeah, she's awesome!" Parker's face lit up.

"How would you like it if we started hangin' out with her a little more?" he asked.

"That'd be sweet! Wait – are you gonna to ask Dr. Bones to marry you?" Parker questioned.

"No, buddy . . . not for a long time, anyway. But she _is_ gonna be my girlfriend. Is that okay with you?" Booth asked, hoping for the answer he needed to hear.

"Sure, Dad – she's cool," Parker said, unsure.

"Good. Thanks, Parks," Booth smiled, oblivious to his son's uncertain tone as he continued to guide him into the diner.

"Hey, Bones," he smiled and sat down opposite of her.

"Hi, Booth," Brennan greeted him nervously.

Parker sat down beside his father and stared at his sneakers.

"Hi, Parker – it's been a while since I've seen you," she said.

"Are _you_ gonna leave my dad, too?" the boy looked up at her.

"Parker! That's very inappropriate. Apologize to Dr. Brennan," Booth reprimanded his son.

"It's okay, Booth. Parker obviously has a lot of concerns and I feel it's best to answer them directly," Brennan told him, then turned Parker. "No, Parker, I do not plan on leaving your father anytime soon."

"So you want to marry him?" Parker assumed.

Brennan hesitated for a long time, obviously not expecting that question. Booth held his breath at what she might say, considering her past views on marriage.

"Your dad and I are just starting our relationship. While we love each other, the discussion of marriage is something that occurs later on in a couple's union," she replied.

"Does that mean no?" Parker questioned, confused.

She paused.

"It means not right now," she smiled and looked at Booth.

"But if you love each other _now_, why don't you wanna get married _now_? Dad says that when you love someone, you ask them to marry you," he inquired.

Brennan turned to Booth for help. Booth took a deep breath and attempted to explain their situation the best he could.

"Because couples need time to be together before making that big of a promise to each other," Booth explained.

"Oh," Parker said.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss, Parker?" Brennan asked.

"Are you gonna live with Dad, like Hannah did?" Parker wondered.

"I . . . have been staying over at your father's in order to help him out while he's been injured. The question of our official living arrangements has not been discussed yet . . . How would you feel about it?" Brennan asked.

Parker shrugged.

"It'd be okay, I guess," he said. "Would you have to give up your pool?"

Brennan and Booth both laughed.

"One step at a time, buddy, okay? Now what do you wanna do this weekend?" Booth asked.

"Can we go swimming?" Parker asked.

"Of course! Your dad will have to stay out of the water, due to his splint, but we can swim if you'd like," Brennan told him.

"Cool! Thanks, Dr. Bones! . . . Is that what I should call you?" Parker inquired.

"You can call me that, or Brennan, or Bren - my family calls me Tempe . . ." Brennan offered.

"I like Bren," Parker smiled. "Can we eat now and then maybe you and Dad could teach me some more stuff about dead bodies and crime scenes?"

"Sure," Brennan laughed and caught Booth's eyes.

Booth took her hand across the table. He'd never loved this woman any more than he did at that moment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You were amazing this weekend," Booth kissed Brennan's temple as they walked into his apartment after dropping Parker off. "I told you it'd work out."

"You were right. Our announcement went well. But I still maintain that it could have gone in a different direction," she pointed out and sat on the couch. "Is it normal behavior for an eleven year-old boy to voluntarily embrace his father's new intimate partner?"

He sat beside her and rubbed her leg affectionately.

"_Girlfriend_, Bones. And I don't know . . . it's never happened before," Booth shrugged. "But he _does_ know you a lot better than anyone else I've introduced to him. And you're great with him."

"Do you think I'd make a good mother?" Brennan asked.

"Mother? _Whoa!_ Bones, where'd that come from? Did Parker's questions about marriage get to you or somethin'?" Booth asked, completely caught off guard.

"No . . . but spending time with Parker made me wonder if I would be a sufficient maternal figure for a child of my own," she clarified. "I assume that if we are to stay in a relationship for a significant amount of time, that children wouldn't be out of the question?"

Booth shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the weight of the conversation. How in god's name did she always manage to take a fairly light-hearted conversation and throw him for a freakin' loop?

"I _do_ want children, Booth. And if you do not, then I believe that it will become a problem at some point during the development of our relationship," Brennan stated and got up to leave. "Perhaps this is not the best situation for either of us."

"_Hey! _Bones, just sit back down. You didn't even give me a chance to respond! We're in this together, okay? So you can't just unilaterally make a decision for us and walk away. Relationships are about give and take . . . compromising . . . honestly discussing issues before making choices . . ." Booth told her.

Brennan nodded and sat down again.

"Look, I never said I didn't want kids with you. But _now?_ We've barely had time together with the case and my injuries and everything else . . ." he said.

"I didn't mean _right now_, Booth! I just happened to think of it while we were with Parker," Brennan clarified. "But I will not be able to wait too much longer, as my biological time to have a healthy child is running out. My reproductive eggs are aging -"

"Can we not talk about biology and eggs and women's reproductive stuff?" Booth cringed.

She nodded, reluctantly.

"We _will_ have to have this discussion, Booth," Brennan insisted.

"Just _not now_, Bones. We've been together _two weeks_ – this discussion usually happens like two _months_ into a relationship – and that's only _mentioning_ whether you want them or not – not 'Hey, let's have a kid together!'" Booth said. He knew he was flipping out at her, but he couldn't help it.

"We have known each other a lot longer than most couples. I believe that justifies most of our serious discussions being held at an earlier time," she contended.

He forced himself to calm down. He reminded himself that she was insecure when it came to long-term relationships and he could scare her off if he didn't watch it.

"We'll talk about it, Bones - I promise. But right now, I just wanna relax and have a normal night with my new, sexy, scientist girlfriend, okay?" Booth said.

"But this _is_ normal for us, Booth," Brennan argued.

"_Stress-free_, Bones," he clarified.

"Oh," she answered. "I can do that."

"Good. So what are we havin' for dinner – Thai? Chinese?" he asked.

"I thought I'd make my mac and cheese. I was going to make it for Parker, but he seemed to want burgers and pizza more at the time," Brennan replied.

"You can make it for him next time – besides, this just means there's more for me," he grinned.

"I'm glad I can make you happy," she smiled.

"Just being with you makes me happy, Bones," Booth assured her, brushing her hair back and kissing her earnestly.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you so much for your feedback and for reading - I really appreciate it! :) Here is the next chapter - finally a vacation for B&B . . . maybe . . . ;)_

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Three more weeks had passed. Booth had just been cleared for the field again that week, but since no cases had come up, he and Brennan had decided it was safe to take their weekend vacation to New York.

"Now _that_ was a game!" Booth exclaimed, happily pointing his foam finger at Brennan, as they made their way out of Yankee Stadium.

"It was . . . interesting . . ." Brennan replied.

"Interesting? _Interesting? _Bones, c'mon . . . it was _way_ more than _interesting!_ Did you see the way Jeter just knocked it out of the park in the last inning?" he argued.

"I'm just not sure I'll ever understand grown men wanting to retreat back to childhood through a game involving a ball and a wooden stick," she said.

"Bones, it's fun - it's entertainment – it's sports! What's not to love?" Booth debated, putting his arm around her waist.

"The fact that so much emphasis in our society is placed on athletics and pop culture instead of education and the arts," she stated.

"Says the woman who has best-selling _fiction_ books and a _seven-figure salary _because of 'em," he smirked.

"My novels are based on facts, Booth. People learn anthropology and forensic science through what I write," Brennan defended.

"And they also learn a lot of other things . . ." he commented, sliding his hand from her waist to her ass. "Which reminds me – we've gotta try page 187 . . ."

"Stop it, Booth – someone could see us!" she swatted his hand away.

"Who? We're on vacation in a completely different city. Who could _possibly_ see us?" he challenged. "The Squint Squad's all back in D.C. and so's the bureau. Relax, Bones – we've got one more day to be ourselves."

"I suppose your logic is reasonable enough," Brennan agreed and put her arm around him, leaning into his side as they walked along the streets of New York. "What would you like to do now? Angela said that the Museum of Modern Art is intriguing."

"I'm not really up for another museum, but if you really wanna go, we can," Booth offered.

"It was only a suggestion. We've both seen something we personally wanted to see, so why don't we find something we'd both enjoy?" she proposed.

"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled and briefly kissed her lips. "Hey look – it's Madame Tussauds! What do ya say, Bones?"

"I thought you didn't want to go to any more museums?" she teased.

"Bones, this is not a museum," Booth argued.

"It says it right on the sign, Booth – 'Wax _Museum_'," Brennan pointed.

"Yeah, but when I said 'museum', I meant a stuffy old place with ancient artifacts or intellectual artsy crap," he clarified. "This place . . . This place is _fun!_"

"It's a museum of waxed duplications of well-known celebrities, Booth – not the actual people themselves. I don't understand what could be so fascinating about it?" Brennan stalled.

"Trust me, Bones – even _you_ will love it!" Booth promised and dragged her inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Booth, I've taken twenty pictures of you at this sports section. That is _not_ the real Derek Jeter," Brennan groaned. "Besides, I have yet to see this historical exhibit you mentioned."

"One more pic, babe – get in here with me. I wanna see if we can screw with Hodgins and Wendell a little, heh, heh," Booth said, mischievously, and put on his foam finger.

"Fine," she smiled and humored him, then pulled him toward the level she wanted to see.

"Okay, Bones – be prepared to meet the closest thing to your idols," Booth said as they walked into the historical section.

Brennan skeptically browsed the area.

"I have to admit these are fairly accurate replicas. Their bone structures are very similar in comparison," she observed. "I . . . am impressed."

Booth dropped his jaw, faking surprise.

"Wait – I gotta get a picture of this! Temperance Brennan impressed by a pop culture museum . . ." Booth reveled.

Brennan rolled her eyes as he snapped the shot with his phone.

"Oh, look! Booth – I think you should get your picture taken over here," she pointed to Abraham Lincoln and started laughing. "Because the irony of _you_ – a direct descendant of John Wilkes Booth - standing behind _Abraham Lincoln_ –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Alright Bones, just take your damn picture and let's get outta here," Booth grumbled. She'd never let him forget that stupid piece of his heritage . . .

"It's just a genealogical fact – it's not like anyone can change their ancestry. I don't know why you're being so sensitive," Brennan said.

"How would _you_ like it if you were related to – to – to Lee Harvey Oswald – or – or – Hitler?" he defended.

"That's . . . impossible. I've traced my ancestors back ten generations and –" she replied.

"Hypothetically, Bones, okay?" he clarified.

"Hypothetically . . . Yes, it would be disappointing . . . but it has no relation to my character or my actions - I've learned that through what my immediate family has done in the past," Brennan answered. "You're a good person, Booth. You have never displayed any signs of desiring to overthrow our government or assassinate our president. In fact, your actions have proven to be the exact opposite of that."

"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled, poignantly, feeling guilty for being so petty, considering Brennan's family history. "You know you're nothing like your family, either, Bones."

Brennan smiled back and took his hand when they heard an ear-piercing scream.

"It's coming from the back door!" she noticed and ran to it, Booth close behind.

They found a distressed employee passed out next to a headless figure.

"Oh, c'mon! She fainted over _this?_ Ken must've gotten pissed at Barbie for taking the Corvette out with another guy and popped her head off," Booth scoffed, checking the employee's pulse and pointing to the bleached blonde head. "It's over there."

"Do you think this Ken had something to do with the murder?" Brennan asked.

"No, Bones – first off, this is a mannequin, and second, didn't you ever play with dolls when you were a kid – never mind . . ." he shook his head once again at her lack of pop culture knowledge.

"I had a Raggedy Ann when I was five, but I didn't go around decapitating her," Brennan replied, pulling out a pair of gloves from her bag and handing it to him, then kneeling down for further inspection of the body.

"You keep a spare pair of gloves in your purse?" he questioned and proceeded to rifle through it. "What else is in here – your murder-ray . . . goggles . . . evidence bags . . . _a probe?_"

"_You_ still carry your gun _and _your badge . . ." she countered.

"Yeah, Bones, but that's totally different -" he argued.

"Booth - this isn't a waxed replica. This is a human body," Brennan informed him. "Notice the exposed cervical vertebrae?"

Booth looked at the severed, bloodied neck bones.

"And . . . vacation's over . . ." Booth exhaled in frustration.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Angela and Cam just confirmed the identity of the victim. It's Avery Mandel –" Brennan said, hanging up her phone, five hours later.

"The police commissioner's daughter - she's been missing for a couple of days now," Booth replied.

"That fits the profile – female, Hispanic, eighteen to twenty years of age, deceased approximately two to two and a half days . . ." she described.

"I asked around and no one's seen anything unusual on the security cameras. There has to be a back door or somethin' around here," he said and began looking through the storage room for an exit. "Ah – found it!"

Brennan took out her black light and goggles, shining the light over the door.

"This is definitely how the murderer entered and exited. Blood is covering the handle and markings of nails scraping over the door itself suggesting a struggle," she observed.

"So she was alive until she was brought in here . . .?" Booth said.

"And then the murderer poured hot wax over her," Brennan finished. "I researched the process of making waxed figures. The first step is to make a clay model and the next is to make a wax mold by pouring hot wax over the model -"

"But instead of clay, this guy –" he interjected.

"Or girl –" Brennan added.

"_Or girl_," Booth sighed at her need to be PC. ". . . used the human body itself."

"I'll have the team investigate it more closely, but yes, that is what appears to have happened.

"Let's go talk to the parents. Maybe they can give us some clues to who Avery hung out with – her enemies?" he suggested and told his FBI team to ship the rest of the contents of the storage room to the Jeffersonian.

"I hate this part . . . telling parents their child is dead . . . in this case tortured and mutilated . . ." Brennan frowned as they walked to the car.

"Me, too, Bones," he agreed, as they got inside. "There's nothing worse than being a parent and hearing your child is in danger or worse. Just thinking about it . . . you can't . . . you'd go insane . . ."

"Is it worth it? The fear . . . the worrying . . .?" Brennan wondered.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't trade being a father for anything in the world . . ." he admitted.

"I guess some things are worth the pain," she smiled, poignantly.

"Yeah, Bones, they are. They definitely are," he smiled back.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you all for still reading! Here's the next chapter . . . :)_

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"Booth . . . Booth, wake up," Brennan coaxed, kissing his rough cheeks and nuzzling against him.

"Mmm . . . not now, baby . . . too early . . . on vacation . . ." he moaned sleepily.

"Booth, we've got a case," she reminded him, nudging him. "Booth?"

Booth started to snore.

"_Hey, Booth!_" she yelled in exasperation.

"Huh? What?" he shot up and saw her wide awake beside him. "_Jesus, Bones _– you've gotta figure out a pleasanter way to wake a guy up!" he complained.

"_I did _– you ignored me!" she huffed and started for the bathroom.

Booth pulled her back down.

"Hey . . ." he smiled and brushed her disheveled hair out of her face, kissing her soundly. "Good morning, Bones."

Brennan tried to fight a smile but was unsuccessful.

"Morning, Booth," she replied, meeting her forehead with his.

"Ready to see Coney Island?" he asked.

"We're not going there for fun, Booth – we're interviewing a prime suspect in their place of employment," she reminded him.

"We can have a _little_ fun . . ." he proposed.

"_Booth . . ._" she warned.

He kissed her again, pulling her down with him.

"_Maybe_," she relented. "We have to have lunch _somewhere . . ._"

"That's my girl!" Booth grinned, kissing her once more, pulling her against him, delaying the start of the inevitably long day ahead of them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Okay . . . So. Cheese fries . . . pizza . . . pretzels . . . kettle corn . . . cotton candy . . . fried Snickers . . . funnel cakes . . . elephant ears . . . What do ya say, Bones?" Booth said, as they walked through the island's amusement park.

"Pachyderm cartilage? Booth, you know I'm a vegetarian," Brennan crinkled her nose.

"They're not what you think they are – they're a meat-free pastry," he explained. "I can't believe you've never had one before!"

"I didn't spend my childhood going to a lot of fairs. But I'd like to try one – after I have some pizza, cheese fries, a pretzel, and some cotton candy. Is a fried Snickers good?" she asked, stopping for cheese fries, pizza, and a pretzel.

"Whoa! Easy there, Bones! What's with the Sumo wrestler appetite?" Booth wondered.

"We didn't have breakfast and I don't know about you, but I have developed quite a craving for carbohydrates," she smiled, slyly.

Booth smiled, devilishly.

"You got a point there, Bones. I think I'll get a Coney dog _and_ a burger . . ." he said, paying for them.

"I think the victim's friend is hiding something," she said, getting back to the case as they found a place to eat their food.

"Well, yeah – of course Shore's hiding something – that he killed her," Booth scoffed, stealing a few of her fries.

"No – Booth, I don't think he did. I genuinely believed him when he said he loved her. But there was something he wasn't telling us . . ." she contemplated, and started on her piece of pizza.

"Avery Mandel and Lucas Shore remained friends despite the fact that she was dating his enemy, Evan Ortiz . . ." he said.

"You think that maybe Mandel and Shore had sexual relations with each other without Ortiz knowing?" Brennan assumed.

"It's possible. People cheat all the time – I'm not sayin' it's right, but it happens," Booth replied, finishing his Coney dog.

"Which is why having a monogamous relationship for the rest of your life is unrealistic," she stated, then looked at Booth's crest-fallen face.

He couldn't help it. He'd thought Brennan had finally seen how amazing love with one person could be. But obviously her views on that issue hadn't changed as much as he'd thought.

"Bones –" he began, but Brennan interrupted.

"_For some people._ I . . . have changed my opinion on the issue for myself as an individual . . . I now believe that if you find a person with whom you are compatible in all aspects, there is a possibility that that person could satisfy your needs for a highly extensive period of time," she admitted.

"So what made you change your mind?" he flirted, cockily.

Brennan blushed and shyly looked down at her empty paper plate.

"So I suppose our next step is to bring Ortiz in for questioning?" Brennan brought their focus back to the original topic.

"Yeah, we've still got full use of the NYPD's interrogation room," Booth said. "But first, we're goin' on the Wonder Wheel."

"Booth, we have work to do," she objected.

"Yeah, but you still haven't gotten all you wanted to eat, right?" he argued, throwing away their trash then pulling her off the bench and toward a stand for cotton candy, elephant ears, and fried Snickers. "We can eat this stuff while we wait in line."

"Alright. But you are becoming a really bad influence on my work ethics," she grumbled.

"Hey – how much time are we wasting? Ten minutes?" he maintained. "That still leaves us within our usual hour for lunch. It just seems like we're wasting time 'cause we usually don't get our food instantly. Just relax, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

"So what did you say to Cam when you told her where we were?" he asked, taking a couple bites of the fried Snickers and offering the rest to her.

She took a bite of it before speaking.

"I simply explained that you had tickets to a Yankees game and invited me along – mostly because you couldn't drive for long periods of time and Parker was unable to attend," Brennan said, handing him part of the cotton candy.

"Nice touch with the Parker thing – she seem like she suspected anything?" he wondered.

"Not to my knowledge . . . However, she did make a comment about us 'slipping it to home base' . . . I told her of course we would make it back home and in a safe manner," Brennan added.

"Oh, god," Booth ran his hands over his face. "Bones – _sliding into home base_ - Cam knows – or at least she's _thinking_ there could be something between us."

"I don't understand?" she said, puzzled.

"'Home base' is a baseball term, but it's also a metaphor for how far you go with a person –" he told her.

"In a sexual way?" Brennan guessed.

"Yeah. First base is kissing. Second is touching. Third is naked. Home is sex," he described.

"Oh . . . But I didn't indicate at any point in the conversation that we were having intercourse?" Brennan furrowed her brow, still confused.

"You didn't have to. Cam already had it in her head. Don't worry about it. As long as she doesn't say anything to Sweets, we're fine. Besides, we're gonna tell them in a few weeks anyway . . . I don't know . . . we'll talk about it later," he rubbed her back in assurance. "So how's your elephant ear?"

"Very good. I wish they wouldn't call it that, though – it's very misleading," Brennan responded taking another bite of it.

Booth chuckled and picked off a piece of it for himself.

"We're up next," he noticed. "You done with your food?"

"Yes. It was very satisfying. Abundant with grease and sugar – but good," she replied and put her wrappers in the trash can.

"Good," Booth smiled and led her onto the car of the Ferris wheel. "Ready?"

"Yes," she said as they strapped themselves in and the wheel began to move up and the car shifted from side to side. "This is quite entertaining and the view is beautiful."

"Yeah," Booth agreed and kissed the top of her hand. "See, Bones. I told you we could still have some fun."

A strange expression formed on her face.

"You okay, there, Bones?" he raised a concerned eyebrow.

"Booth . . .? I don't feel so good . . ." she said, sheet white and clutching her stomach as they reached the top of the wheel.

"Here, lean back on me, babe. It'll pass – the ride's almost over -" he soothed her.

"No – Booth, I have to -" she struggled to move away from him, but ended up vomiting on his shoes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Booth, I'm fine. It was more than likely a reaction to motion sickness exacerbated by the unhealthy foods I consumed minutes before the ride. Change your shoes and we'll go," Brennan insisted, rinsing out her mouth when they were back at their hotel suite.

"Bones, you're not goin' anywhere. You just puked all over my only pair of Italian shoes – you're not 'fine'," Booth saw right through her tough act.

"I told you I'd replace them. I'll buy you as many pairs as you'd like -" she offered.

He finished putting on his sneakers.

"I don't care about the shoes, Bones. I care about _you_. Now lie back down and get some rest. I'll go check this guy out and come back as soon as I can, okay?" Booth insisted, kissing her forehead and placing some crackers and a can of ginger ale on the nightstand.

"But I feel a lot better now. I'm not missing work because I was nauseated for thirty minutes," she protested.

"Bones, you're not setting one foot out of this room. I followed your orders for over a month. You can follow mine for _one day_," he stood firm.

Brennan glared stubbornly at him, but didn't make an attempt to move.

"I'll be back soon," Booth kissed her cheek and left.

He hated leaving her like that. He'd rather have stayed and taken care of her the way she had him for all those weeks. As much as he loved his job, it was a pain in the ass when it came to his social life. He worried about Brennan the entire time he drove to the station. It wasn't like her to have such a sensitive stomach. Hell, she touched dead, decaying bodies for a living and he'd never seen her even flinch. Why would a low-key amusement park ride faze her? His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call.

"Booth?" he answered.

"Hodgins determined the murder weapon," Brennan replied.

"Great – what was it?" he asked.

"Judging from the clean, single slice that severed the head from the neck, and the blood sample taken from the weapon, it was one of the props in the storage room – the guillotine - more than likely used in a Marie Antoinette display," she said. "You need to get a sample of Ortiz's DNA so they can be matched with the other blood sample we found on it."

"Two blood samples?" Booth questioned.

"Perhaps there was a struggle prior to the beheading," Brennan speculated.

"Got it. Thanks, Bones. How are ya doin'?" he wondered.

"Fine, Booth. Just like I was when you left. Please inform me of what you find out," she replied coldly.

"I will. See ya later okay?" he said.

"Yes," she curtly agreed.

A long, awkward pause followed. He could tell Brennan was still upset with him, but did she really expect him to take her along when she could hurl all over the suspect?

"Hey, Bones?" he said.

"Yes, Booth?" she answered.

"We're okay, right? I mean, you still . . ." he trailed off.

"Love you? Yes. I understand your need to be overprotective due to your emotional attachment . . . And I feel the same about you. That doesn't mean I'm not frustrated at the situation, but I understand why you insisted I stay behind," Brennan assured him.

"I just wanna make sure that you realize when we fight it doesn't mean I love you any less than before, okay? We're always gonna work things out," he reassured her.

"I won't run, Booth. I'm staying right here," she promised. "Literally and figuratively."

"Good. That's all I needed to hear, Bones," he smiled. "Maybe we could go to dinner later, if your stomach's up for it?"

"I would like that," Brennan replied. "You'd better go."

"Yeah, I'm right at the station. Bye, Bones," he said.

"Goodbye, Booth," she replied as they both hung up.

One problem solved. If only he could take care of the case as easily . . .


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to everyone for reading! :)_

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"Why am I here? I didn't do anything and I don't know anything," the clean cut young man, early twenties, dark hair, complained.

"Where were you the night of May 12th?" Booth questioned in the interrogation room of the NYPD building.

"At home, watching the season finale of the 'The Vampire Diaries'," Ortiz replied.

"Can anyone verify that? Because we have reason to believe that you were with your girlfriend, at your place of work," Booth countered.

Ortiz stiffened.

"I just came there to talk. Ask her why she's been bailin' on me lately," he replied.

"Is that all that went down, Ortiz? I heard your girl was playin' you. And I don't know about you man, but I'd be pretty pissed if I found out my girl was screwin' another guy . . . especially my enemy," Booth manipulated.

"Okay, okay," he surrendered. "We didn't just talk . . . I knew what she was doin' with that asshole and I wanted answers . . . So I took her in the back door to make her talk – in private . . . When I forced her in there with me, she punched me in the nose and tried to get outta there," he confessed.

"Which explains the blood and nail scratches on the door," Booth said.

"I just wanted to scare her – make her say it to my face . . ." he trailed off.

"So you stuck her head in the guillotine?" Booth prompted.

"I-I didn't think it was real . . . I-I thought it was just a freakin' prop . . . Oh, god . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry . . . I'd do anything to get Avery back . . ." Ortiz broke down.

"Evan Ortiz, you're under arrest for the murder of Avery Mandel. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . ." Booth cuffed him and began to read him his rights.

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Booth came back to their suite to find Brennan on the couch, immersed in writing her next book. She usually made him wait to read it until she had the final draft done, but maybe he'd earned the privilege of seeing some of it before then. He came up behind her and daringly leaned over for a peek.

"We have a rescue dog named Ripley?" he read.

"_Booth!_ This is not about us! And what are you doing sneaking up on me and looking over my shoulder?" she slammed the laptop shut.

"Sorry, Bones. I was just curious . . . ya know . . . bein' a big inspiration and all . . ." he grinned cockily and kissed her lips from above.

"You are very certain you are the agent in my books?" she replied, amused.

"C'mon, Bones . . . tall, muscular, brown hair, brown eyes, crazy socks, expert marksman . . . except for the 'somewhat overly confident' and the 'occasional childish tendencies' part, that's totally me," Booth argued, sitting beside her.

"I'll admit that you have had an influence on the character," she confessed.

"Ha! So. What are we up to this time? Juicy murder? Hot sex?" he reached for the laptop.

"No peeking! I haven't completed this chapter yet," she smacked his hand away.

"Can I see it when you're done?" he asked eagerly.

She hesitated.

"Yes . . . now that you are more than my partner, I believe you have earned the right to read chapters as I write them . . . I trust you won't reveal anything to the public of course?" she assumed.

Booth held his hand up.

"Hey, Scouts honor – I won't say a word. I'm just lovin' the perks of being a best-selling author's guy!" he grinned.

"So what happened with the case?" she inquired.

"Hodgins was right – Ortiz confessed about the guillotine. Claimed he only did it to scare Mandel – had no idea the blade was real," Booth told her.

"Did you believe him?" Brennan asked, putting her laptop away.

"Yeah . . . he honestly seemed regretful, like he never meant to really hurt his girlfriend . . ." he answered.

"And the wax?" she wondered.

"Was a desperate cover-up. The kid panicked. Turns out he'd been studying to make the figurines at the branch in London . . . thought he could make her look like a random extra and no one would know," Booth finished. "I sent his prints back to the Squint Squad, but we got him on the confession alone."

"Would you be that enraged if I were to sleep with another man?" Brennan asked.

Booth skeptically raised his eyebrow.

"Why? You have a guy on the side I don't know about?" he teased, fairly confident she was just being her direct self.

"No. I merely wondered what your reaction would be if the case arose," Brennan replied.

"Are you planning on it?" Booth got a little more suspicious.

"Of course not. I value our relationship too much to engage in a tryst with someone else . . . I find you to be more than satisfactory when it comes to fulfilling my sexual and emotional needs," she replied.

"Really? Exactly how much more are we talkin' about here?" Booth smiled, slyly, putting his arm around her.

"An immeasurable amount," she assured him, snuggling into him.

"You know I'd never do that to you, either, Bones . . . you're all I need, okay?" he promised.

"I know. And I trust you, Booth . . . it's been difficult for me . . . but you're one of the few people in my life I know I can depend on," Brennan timidly confessed.

"I'll always be there for you," Booth vowed, cupping her chin and kissing her earnestly. "You ready to put on somethin' sexy and let me take you to dinner – if you're up for it?"

"My stomach is still fine, Booth. I'll go change – but first, I have something for you," she said, getting up and taking out a Bergdorf Goodman bag from the closet. "I know you said for me not to leave our room, but I realized you would need these if we were to go anywhere with a dress code."

Booth opened the bag to find two Ferragamo shoeboxes.

"I didn't know if you were going to change or not," she explained. "And I felt guilty for soiling your shoes."

"Thanks, Bones . . . you really didn't have to do this . . . but thank you," he smiled, overwhelmed by her generosity.

"You're welcome, Booth," she smiled, shyly. "I'm going to go get dressed."

Booth nodded and went to the closet, taking out another suit and changing. Technically, this would be their first formal date, given the case and his injuries. He wondered if she had thought about it. But as he turned around and saw her standing in front of him in a red halter cocktail dress, he knew she was fully aware of the sentiment – either that or she just wanted to drive him crazy.

"Y-You look – Th-That's – You look amazing," he drooled, looking her up and down.

"Thank you," she smiled. "You look . . . very attractive."

He confidently walked toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"So ya think I might get lucky, tonight?" he flirted.

"If by 'luck' you mean will we engage in sexual activities, I would say your statistical odds are very encouraging," she teased back, straightening his tie and walking past him towards the door.

Booth took the opportunity to check out her ass, then followed her.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you so much for your reviews and for everyone who is reading this! Here's the next chapter . . . :)_

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"It's good to be home," Brennan sighed, leaving her suitcase by the door and flopping on Booth's couch.

"Home?" Booth repeated, happily surprised.

"B-By home, I-I simply meant in Washington, D.C. – of course, the actual habitat that I use as my dwelling is my own apartment – not this one that we are in at the moment -" she nervously rambled.

"Bones . . . hey, it's okay. I'm glad you think of this place as your home," he assured her. "It means you're comfortable here . . . comfortable enough with me to leave your makeup all over the bathroom counter and your latest anthropology books on the nightstand . . . your favorite food in the kitchen . . . take up over half my closet . . ."

"I'm not being too presumptuous?" she worried.

"Not even close. C'mon, we talked about this before, right?" he said.

"Actually, it was only a passing conversation stemming from Parker's inquiries of our residential status. We have never officially discussed the issue," Brennan corrected him.

"Well, now we're discussing it. And I say, move in with me – officially," Booth proposed.

"I don't know . . . I'll have to think about it . . ." she teased.

"_Ah . . ._ another joke . . . That's good, Bones . . ." he chuckled, pulling her close.  
>"I can think of one person who will be disappointed though," Brennan thought.<p>

"Who?" Booth wondered.

"Parker – he'll lose the pool," she explained. "Perhaps _you_ should move in with _me_ – it _is_ a larger space, after all, and Parker would have his own room when he stayed?"

"I don't know, Bones. I was kinda thinkin' we'd get a place of our own eventually, anyway. It'd be a lot to introduce a kid to two different environments in the span of a few months," he objected.

"Perhaps you're right – a few months?" she stopped.

"Yeah, I mean, we can't live in this space forever and it'll take a while to find somethin' we both agree on, so I figure in about six or seven months we could think about moving," Booth shrugged. "Plus, my lease'll be up by then."

"I suppose that's reasonable . . ." she agreed. "However, perhaps I should still rent my apartment until that time – your apartment does not provide enough room for all of our furniture and belongings combined. But I would still cohabitate with you here, of course."

"Sounds good to me, Bones," he told her.

"Does this mean we are telling everyone about our relationship?" Brennan asked. "Because they will start to question why we're coming in to work together and why I'm never at my apartment."

Booth absently stroked her hair as he contemplated.

"I'd give it another week or so just to be safe, but yeah, they'll start getting suspicious after a while," he agreed. "Are you feeling any better? I heard you in the bathroom before we left this morning. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

"I'm fine, Booth. It must have been a residual effect of the previous nausea," Brennan assured him.

"Okay, but maybe you should see a doctor, just in case?" he suggested.

"I know my own body, Booth," she insisted.

"Okay, Bones. But it won't stop me from worrying about you – that won't ever change," he maintained.

"I will admit that it's nice to have someone care about you so much," she smiled and pressed her lips to his. "But that doesn't mean I want you to constantly hover over me the second you hear me cough or sneeze. I can take of myself – I've been doing it for multiple years."

"All I'm sayin' is that if you keep having these symptoms, you need to see a doctor. You could have food poisoning . . . or the flu . . . or some sorta other virus," he told her.

"I'm sure it was just a side effect, Booth. But if my digestive system is still irregular at the end of the week, I will see a doctor," she bargained.

"Thank you," Booth said, squeezing her shoulder. "I'd better call Rebecca and see if I still have Parker this coming weekend."

"If you do, perhaps we could all go to the Air & Space Museum?" she suggested. "Parker had mentioned to me that his class had been studying the Apollo 13 mission and he seemed very excited about it."

"That's a great idea, Bones," Booth smiled. "You really like him, don't you?"

"Of course – why wouldn't I? Parker is an exceptional child and I enjoy spending time with him," Brennan replied.

"I'm glad . . . I only brought it up 'cause it's, uh . . . it's really important to me that the person I'm with genuinely likes my son . . . I don't want things to get too serious with someone and then find out they only pretended to like him because of me," he admitted. "But I know that's not true with you. You're amazing with him . . . so natural . . . and I love you for that."

Brennan smiled, shyly.

"You will never have to question my sincerity when it comes to your child, Booth," she promised. "You once told me that nothing trumps family, and I agree. Family is very important . . . And Parker is _your_ family, therefore he is important to me as well . . . Regardless of the status of our relationship, I have always been very fond of Parker . . . I only hope that he truly feels the same of me."

"He does, Bones. His eyes always light up when I mention your name. And you saw the way he hugged you the last time – I couldn't have asked for a better moment," he said, kissing her temple and holding her close, blinking back a few tears from his eyes. He couldn't imagine his life without this incredible woman in it.

"Are you okay?" Brennan worried, noticing he was holding her longer than usual.

He pulled back and gathered his composure.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he assured her by affectionately rubbing her leg then got up from the couch. "I'm gonna go make that call."

"I told Ang we'd meet her and Hodgins for dinner here at six. I need to pick up groceries as well as some more ink for your printer, since I used it all. Do you need anything while I'm gone?" Brennan asked, grabbing her purse.

"More brown sugar and oatmeal, Doritos – you know those taco-flavored ones I like - and the decent kinda beer – not your weird Mongolian crap. There's a game on tonight. I thought Hodgins and I'd watch it after dinner while you girls gossip or whatever," Booth replied, handing her his list.

"We talk like civilized people, Booth. And women have been conversing in intimate settings for centuries," Brennan argued.

"You talk about _us_," he playfully countered.

"Yes, the men in our lives are usually discussed at some point in our conversations. However, I wouldn't get so egotistical about it – there _are_ other important issues to address," she teased. "Okay. Chips, beer, oatmeal, and brown sugar. I'll be back."

"Hey, Bones? Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked.

"I've got my purse, phone, and keys? What else would I be forgetting?" she innocently wondered.

"This . . ." Booth replied, enveloping her lips until he sensed her going limp from pleasure.

"Mmm . . . I will never forget _that_ again," she laughed and chastely kissed his lips once more before leaving.

He couldn't wait for her to get back.

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"Booth . . .?" Brennan called a few hours later.

"Yeah, Bones?" he answered, coming into the kitchen. "Want me to help you unload the groceries?"

"Only your oatmeal," she said. "The rest is going to my apartment."

"Your apartment? I thought we were having dinner here?" he asked, curiously.

"I ran into my dad," she explained. "Literally – in the cereal aisle."

"Your dad?" he said.

"Yes. Why do you keep repeating everything I'm saying?" she complained.

Booth shrugged, knowing the explanation would be lost on her.

"He was very adamant about spending time with me and getting to know my friends," she said.

"Okay . . . but it's not like I don't have a kitchen and a table here?" he pointed out, oblivious.

"_Booth_, my father can be very observant – especially when half of my personal belongings are in _your_ apartment," she explained in frustration.

"You got a point . . ." Booth agreed. "Why don't we just tell him? It's not like my family doesn't already know – well, except for Pops. I thought we'd make a special trip to the nursing home and tell him together."

"Yes, I would like that. But as for my father, he works for the Jeffersonian and has difficulty restraining himself from telling anyone he sees about my accomplishments – personal ones included," Brennan replied.

Booth silently marveled at Brennan thinking her relationship with him was a personal accomplishment.

"C'mon, Bones. Max knows how to keep a secret – how do you think he's survived this long?" he argued.

"That is true, however those secrets were a matter of life and death . . . or imprisonment . . ." she countered.

"I guess you're right. C'mon, let's go," he said, putting on his shoes, then grabbing the two grocery bags.

"I didn't want to have anyone in my apartment so soon. It hasn't been cleaned in over a month," she sighed as they walked to his SUV. "But I didn't see any other solution."

"Don't worry about it, Bones. You fix dinner and I'll clean up the place, okay?" Booth offered.

"Thank you. I'm sorry it turned out this way. I knew you were looking forward to some normal socialization where we were free to be ourselves," Brennan apologized.

"It's okay - these things happen. And we'll let everyone know soon enough. Just think of it as more time without your father sticking his nose in our personal business," he joked.

"I'm sure he will have some views on our relationship . . . he already does, actually," she mused.

"_Exactly._ And now four people can have fun messin' with him, right?" he smiled, mischievously.

Brennan shook her head in amusement.

"You and my father have a very strange rivalry," she remarked.

"Yeah, well we both have very different views on where to draw the line when it comes to the law. But we have at least one thing in common," he smiled and grabbed her hand at the stoplight before her apartment.

Brennan squeezed his hand back and they were contentedly silent while pulling in the parking area.

"Just so we are on the same page, as you say, no flirting, fondling or anything that could possibly make Dad suspicious," she went over their protocol for the evening as they walked to her building.

"I'm gonna have a big issue with that second one," he grinned, devilishly and grabbed her ass.

Brennan smacked his hand away.

"Booth! We aren't in New York anymore – someone could see us!" she berated him.

"Sorry, babe. I'll keep my hands to myself as soon as your dad gets here, but until then I can't be held responsible for what they do," he teased.

"Then get inside!" she giggled, hurriedly pulling him up the steps and in the door of her building.

Once in the elevator, a playful kiss between them became heated and when the doors opened on her floor, her neighbor across the hall got an eye-full before they realized where they were.

Booth awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry, Mrs. Bransky," he apologized; feeling like the principal had caught them in the janitor's closet.

Brennan blushed.

"Yes, this was very inappropriate behavior, and I promise it will not happen again," she vowed as she nervously opened her door.

"It's quite alright, dears. I was beginning to think something had happened to you, Temperance. I'm glad you were only engaging in a heated affair with this strapping young G-man of yours," the elderly woman replied. "I suppose fate finally decided to smile on you two?"

They both smiled politely and entered Brennan's apartment. Booth slammed the door and feverishly devoured her lips, pushing her towards her bedroom.

"Wait – Booth, I . . . I have to fix dinner . . . and . . . mmmm . . . And clean the apartment . . . mmmm . . ." Brennan half-heartedly protested between kisses.

"We've still got – what?" he glanced at his watch. "An hour and a half before everyone shows up, right? That's plenty of time."

"But, Booth, my apartment is in a complete state of disarray and it takes more than thirty minutes to make this meal considering I create the sauce from scratch – the food – it's still in the car! Why didn't you bring it in?" she scolded.

"_Me? _Hey, I was a little distracted by you and your guidelines for tonight," he excused. "And I don't remember _you_ rushing to get it either."

"_I . . ._ I suppose you aren't the only one to blame," she conceded, begrudgingly.

"How about I go get the food . . . we put it away . . . come back in here and if we run out of time, we'll just order takeout?" he suggested.

"But I promised Angela a home-cooked meal. She's been craving one for a while now, and feels too exhausted from her pregnancy to make one herself," Brennan hesitated.

Booth attempted to persuade her by seductively pressing his lips to hers.

"Then let's not waste any more time," he grinned boyishly and ran out of the apartment.

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An hour and fifteen minutes later, Booth and Brennan lay in her bed, oblivious to how much time had passed. The door buzzer rang and they both jumped up in a panic.

"What time is it?" Brennan asked.

"5:45PM," Booth said, glancing at the clock.

"They're fifteen minutes early!" she exclaimed, throwing on her clothes.

"Do you honestly think we can clean this place up _and_ fix a meal in fifteen minutes, Bones?" he asked, skeptically, finding his pants.

"No, but it would have given us a little more time to prepare – I thought you said we still had forty-five minutes?" she accused.

"Yeah, well, I was wrong, okay? Next time – less talkin', more doin' and we might get it right," he replied, irritated. He couldn't believe she was placing all the blame on him.

"I thought we were very accurate," she smiled, slyly.

Booth grinned. It was impossible to stay mad at her for long.

"We were, Bones – definitely record-breaking," he agreed and leaned in to kiss her when they heard the buzzer again. "Damn. We'll finish this later."

"I agree. But right now, we need to answer the door," she giggled, playfully pushing him out of her room. "Remember – act normal."

"You don't have to remind me, Bones. Just open the door," Booth grumbled.

Brennan gave him a look and opened it.

"Angela, Hodgins! Come in!" Brennan greeted them.

"What took you guys so long?" Angela asked, as they walked in the apartment.

"Do you really have to ask?" Hodgins smirked. "Just look at the uncontrollable smile on Dr. B's face."

"Ooohhhh . . ." Angela understood. "I miss those days . . ."

"Yeah, me, too. Angie used to not be able to keep her hands off me - now she freaks out if I dare to touch her," Hodgins replied.

"Being almost forty weeks pregnant will do that to ya," Angela excused and smoothed Brennan's disheveled hair, then looked at Booth. "Sweetie, I think you need to go change your shirt."

"Why?" Booth asked.

"Because it's super wrinkled and on backwards," she replied.

"Bones, do I have another shirt here?" he asked.

"Top dresser drawer," Brennan told him.

"Thanks, babe," he kissed her cheek and ran to change.

Brennan's face reddened in embarrassment.

"Look at you two . . . finally gettin' together. Congrats, Dr. B!" Hodgins grinned.

She began to open her mouth when her father appeared at the door.

"I hear congratulations are in order? What wonderful accomplishment has my daughter achieved this time?" Max asked, eagerly.

Booth walked in the room again.

"Uh . . . Dr. Brennan just discovered a new . . . hobby! Yeah, it's _really_ enjoyable for her!" Hodgins covered, tongue in cheek.

"Yeah – totally life-changing!" Angela chimed in, happily watching her two friends squirm.

"Really? What is it?" he asked, curiously.

Brennan struggled for a reply.

"Y-Yoga," she said. "It helps to relax your muscles and your mind."

"Honey, you look a little stressed?" Max observed his daughter's flush complexion. "Isn't yoga supposed to help relieve tension?"

"I-I'm fine, Dad. I was just cleaning," she excused.

Max swept his finger across the hall table and held it up.

"Exactly how dirty was your apartment before?" he questioned.

"_Dad . . .!_" Brennan protested.

Booth decided it was time to step in and rescue her.

"Bones and I have been working a lot of complicated cases lately. I'm sure she hasn't really felt like cleaning when she finally has the time, Max," he defended.

"It's true. I . . . have been extremely busy lately," she said. "Speaking of which, I need to start dinner. Why don't you and Hodgins and Booth watch sports while Ang helps me?"

"Whatever you say, Tempe," Max smiled, disbelievingly, yet followed the other two men to the couch. "So she finally broke down and got a bigger TV, huh? I take it this was your influence, Booth?"

"Yeah, well, you know Bones. She doesn't understand the significance of sports and entertainment like we do. But I told her if she wanted to keep watchin' 'The Jersey Shore' without gettin' a migraine, she'd better spring for at least a 32"," Booth replied.

"Tempe watches 'The Jersey Shore'?" Max questioned.

"Dr. B thought it was a documentary to begin with," Hodgins snickered.

"Now she's hooked. It's pretty hilarious," Booth chuckled.

"You kids spend a lot of time together . . . but I'm glad Tempe has so many good friends. So Booth – you seeing anyone right now?" Max asked.

"And _that's_ where Bones get her directness from – you just cut right to the chase, don't ya there, Max?" Booth chuckled.

"It's a legitimate question. I was only making small-talk – no need to arrest me," Max claimed.

"Yeah, well it seemed like you were tryin' to play matchmaker with me. And believe me, I don't need any help in that department!" Booth scoffed.

"Booth's right – he's _definitely_ got an eye for the ladies – _one_ -" Hodgins began.

"_One day_ I'll find the right one," Booth glared at him.

"And maybe he already has," Hodgins continued.

Booth jabbed him – he was gonna kill that little creep . . .

"Or maybe she's still out there somewhere," Booth added.

"Or she could be right under your nose," Hodgins smirked.

"Or across the country," Booth countered.

"Or in this apartment," Hodgins shot back.

"The first course is ready!" Brennan called from the kitchen, setting out the salad and bruschetta.

_Thank god Bones interrupted them._ Booth allowed Max to head to the table first and pulled Hodgins to the side.

"_What the hell was that?_" he demanded. "I thought the four of us were friends?"

"We are . . . I just thought I'd have a little fun for a change . . ." Hodgins shrugged.

"Listen,_ Bugsy_, this is our job you're screwin' with. If Max finds out too soon and lets it leak, Dr. Brennan and I might get split up as partners. And that means ya have Bones to deal with – and believe me, buddy, she's the last person ya want pissed at ya. So can the crap and play along – got it?" Booth threatened.

"Clearer than the secretion of a planococcus citri," Hodgins sweated.

Booth wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"Whatever. Now get in there and act normal – or as normal as you squints get . . ." Booth gave him a gentle shove.

"You know, I could also take the name 'Bugsy' as a compliment," Hodgins replied. "Warren Beatty . . ."

"_Just get in there!_" Booth grumbled. Starting the next day, he and Bones needed to get new friends . . .


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you so much for reading and for the feedback - it's much loved! :) This chapter is a little choppier, because I wrote it around what was shown in "The Change in the Game". There will be one more chapter after this one._

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"'The Godfather' or 'Pretty Woman'?" Brennan said, holding up two movies. "You said you'd teach me more about the classics of pop culture."

"'The Godfather', Bones. Always 'The Godfather'. How the hell did 'Pretty Woman' get in there, anyway?" he asked.

"I picked it up at the store – Angela referenced it once or twice," Brennan explained. "Personally, I'm not sure how the writers of Hollywood could manage to romanticize the life of a street walker, but perhaps once I watch it, I will understand."

Booth began to say something when his phone rang.

"Booth," he answered. "Yeah, I'll tell Bones and we'll be right there."

"Who was that?" she asked.

"That was the bureau. Gotta go – we got a case!" he said, eagerly, taking the DVDs from her and pushing her towards the door.

"Wait – Booth! I'm still in your FBI t-shirt – I'm not prepared to go into the office yet!" she protested. "Not only will I draw suspicion, but it's also very unprofessional."

"Then go change! Chop! Chop!" he hurried her along.

"Booth . . . I'm not the only one who needs to change," Brennan said, observing his t-shirt and boxers.

"Oh, yeah . . . Guess I got a little excited about having a case again. It's been over a week," he smiled, sheepishly.

"Obviously, I have failed in my multitudinous attempts to distract you," she looked at him slyly from across the room.

"Not even close. I wouldn't trade our uninterrupted time for anything," he assured her. "But you gotta admit it's been pretty quiet lately as far as the crime scene action goes. Aren't you itchin' to whip out your squint gear again?"

"I will agree that I have missed working in the field with you and also with everyone at the lab. However, once I actually had some free time with you, I was enjoying it . . . perhaps a little too much," she timidly admitted.

"Temperance Brennan actually likes a vacation? I'm witnessing history right here!" Booth teased.

"Just because I was content with the idea of spending the day in bed with you, educating myself on the standards of popular American culture, doesn't mean that I no longer see the value and satisfaction in a day's work," she corrected him.

"Whatever, Bones. Admit it – _you_ wanna play hooky today," he countered.

"I . . . I'll be back," she said, rushing to the bathroom.

Booth heard coughing and heaving noises and followed.

"Bones? I thought you were over whatever you had? You haven't been sick since last Thursday?" he questioned.

"You never heard me. I didn't want to worry you," she replied, looking up from the toilet.

"We're going to the doctor. C'mon," he commanded, pulling her up.

She wriggled out of his grasp.

"I'm fine, Booth!" she argued and rinsed out her mouth.

"You're _not_ fine, Bones! No one's 'fine' who's been throwing up for over a week! Here – put this on – we're goin'!" he insisted, handing her a top and pants.

"I will schedule an appointment for this afternoon. But right now, we are going to the crime scene," she insisted.

"Fine – here's your phone," he found it and held it out to her expectantly. He wanted to make sure she wasn't blowing him off.

"Are you saying that you don't trust me?" she said, angrily grabbing the phone.

"You hid the fact that you were still sick from me – what am I supposed to think?" he retorted.

"I don't need to discuss everything with you, Booth. Some things are private! The next thing you'll want to know is my excrement schedule!" she snapped, throwing on her clothes and storming out the front door.

"Bones! Bones, get back here and let's talk about this!" Booth ran after her in his boxers and crazy socks, but she was already gone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He met up with her half an hour later in the parking lot of the bowling alley. She acknowledged that he was there, but refused to say anything, proceeding to walk toward the entrance. Booth gently pulled her back.

"Bones, we need to talk. We can't go in there mad at each other, okay?" he insisted.

"I agree. For the sake of the case, we can briefly discuss this morning and perhaps achieve an amicable truce," she conceded.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't trust you . . . It's just you more or less lied to me. We don't _do_ that, Bones. We're partners – _a team_," he reminded her.

She guiltily looked down at the ground.

"I . . . withheld information from you, and for that I apologize. I am new to this and have not quite learned the boundaries and protocol when it comes to long-term romantic dyads," she said.

Booth nodded.

"I care about you, Bones. I'm not tryin' to control you, I just wanna know what's goin' on with you – know you're alright. And if you're not, I wanna be there for you, okay?" he explained.

"Okay," she smiled, timidly. "I made an appointment at 11:30AM with my primary physician."

"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled. "I brought you a banana – you don't have to eat it, but I thought ya might want it since you didn't have breakfast."

"Thank you," she accepted it and allowed her hands to linger on his longer than necessary.

He knew that was her subtle way of saying they were okay.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Ride back with me?" Booth offered after they'd instructed the FBI crew to transport the pinsetter to the lab.

She nodded as they walked toward the parking lot.

"Just so ya know, I will _never_ wanna have sex . . . make out . . . whatever . . . behind one of those things," he joked, once they were in his SUV.

"And you had considered it before?" Brennan asked, skeptically.

"No, but . . . it's a joke, Bones. Never mind," he sighed. "So any other thoughts on who ground this guy up in there?"

"I will know more once I can examine the remains at the lab," she answered. "My dad is on a bowling team – the Thunderbolts."

"Really? Is he any good?" Booth wondered.

"I'm not sure. I've never watched him before," she replied.

"Maybe you should sometime. You know, bond over some of his interests," he suggested. "There's nothin' better than family and sports."

"I suppose you're right . . . my father and I do not have much in common. Perhaps a sporting event could change that," Brennan said.

"Speaking of Max, I think he's startin' to catch onto us," Booth commented.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Hodgins and I got into it while you girls were in the kitchen. He practically spelled it out for him," he complained.

"But my father never mentioned anything?" Brennan said, confused.

"I don't know, maybe he isn't . . . I'm kinda tired of analyzing what goes on in that guy's head," he digressed.

Brennan quieted.

"Sorry, Bones. I know he's your dad," he apologized.

"It's completely understandable that you and my father do not agree on certain issues. I have difficulties with some of his past actions as well. However, I have discovered that he is attempting to change . . . and he can be very pleasant to spend time with," she observed.

"You're right. Max can be a good guy sometimes," Booth agreed. "I guess I would've had more fun at that dinner if we weren't trying to hide somethin' from him. You can't con a con man that easily."

"That's very true," she said.

"But I don't think we'll have as much trouble here," he predicted as they pulled up to the Jeffersonian.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Seeley! Dr. Brennan! It's good to see your faces back here again!" Cam greeted them.

"Hey, Cam! Finally back on a case!" he grinned, then ran up the steps of the platform.

"Hello, Dr. Saroyan," Brennan smiled.

"So how did that game go?" she asked, grinning and raising her eyebrow.

"The Yankees won," Brennan replied innocently, and proceeded to the platform.

Cam followed, shaking her head.

"Okay, Bones, Squint Squad - do your thing!" Booth said, after making sure that the crew had delivered everything. "I'm gonna head to the bureau and see what they can come up with as far as suspect leads."

"Thank you, Booth. I will let you know what we find," Brennan replied, politely.

"No problem, Bones. See ya later!" he replied and ran back down the stairs.

Cam followed him.

"Seeley? Do you have a minute?" she asked. "We haven't had time to . . . catch up!"

"Sure, Cam. What's up?" he wondered.

"Nothing. I just wondered how your trip with Dr. Brennan went – the baseball game?" she said.

"Oh. It was good – Jeter was _so awesome_, he -" Booth began.

"Was that the only 'awesome' thing about it?" she smiled, slyly. "I thought you and Brennan might have also slid into home?"

"What? Cam, are you having problems with your boyfriend or somethin' and desperate to hear about anybody else's stories about . . . you know . . .?" he asked, hoping he could divert the conversation.

"No. No! I'm just wondering why you would invite a woman who knows absolutely nothing about baseball to a Yankees game without expecting to play a little bit of the game yourself?" she pried.

"Bones and I . . . I don't wanna talk about it . . ." he grumbled.

"Trouble in paradise? Because you two seemed very courteous with each other – _too_ courteous. I mean, you're usually either fighting like children or joined at the hip." she observed. "Let me guess – you struck out in New York?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Cam!" Booth yelled and left.

"And . . . I think we have a winner . . ." she muttered and walked back up to the platform.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Booth," he answered his phone.

"Are we still meeting at the diner?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah, but slight change of plans – you dad's coming, too," he told her.

"Why?" she wondered.

"'Cause his bowling team – the one you told me about earlier – plays in that same alley as our victim. I'm thinkin' he could help us out," Booth explained. "So how did your appointment go?"

"My doctor says I'm fine -" she answered.

"Then you need a new doctor," Booth remarked.

"No - you interrupted me. She said I was fine, considering my condition. She said it's perfectly normal," Brennan added.

"So you have a bug?" he assumed.

"I suppose you could call it that . . . it's not proper terminology, however -" she paused when she heard her phone beep and looked at her caller ID. "Booth, it's Angela. I need to answer this – she might be in labor. Can we continue our conversation later?"

"Sure. So you'll meet me at the diner, unless I hear something different, right?" he said.

"Correct," she replied. "Goodbye, Booth."

"Bye, Bones. I'm glad you're okay," he said.

"I know," she teased and hung up.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Buck and Wanda are back, baby!" Booth high-fived Brennan while in their undercover wardrobe. "Outta the circus and chillin' at the bowlin' alley . . ."

"We do make a pretty good team – don't we, muffin?" she said in Wanda's voice.

"You bet yer sweet cheeks we do!" he said in Buck's voice and kissed her cheek.

"_Oh, Buck . . ._" she giggled.

"Ya know your giggling didn't help me with Max back there. He kept lookin' at me like I was an idiot or somethin'," Booth complained.

"He probably just thinks you should be more observant of my flirtatious signals and react more to them," she shrugged and linked her arm with his. "C'mon. Let's go see if he found anything else out."

"After you, Wanda," he offered, then happily stared at her ass.

"Buck! What are you doin'?" Brennan caught him.

"What? That kid over there's right – you got a _great_ set of buns," he flirted.

"You realize you'll pay for that lata," she glared at him with her arms crossed and smacked her gum.

"Promise," he grinned, devilishly.

Brennan jabbed him, but then couldn't resist a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I wasn't kidding in there, Booth. If we _ever_ have a child like Amber . . ." Brennan said on their way to the hospital. "She was absolutely horrible!"

"Yeah – that kid was a monster – if it wasn't for that helmet, my money was on her!" Booth chuckled. "But c'mon, Bones. That's _waaaaay_ in our future - and trust me, we would _never_ have a child like her because we would be loving, caring parents. I'm sure the kid's just messed up from lack of attention."

Brennan nodded.

"Booth, what if her parents _are_ loving and attentive? What if her behavior is out of their control – what if she has ADD or ADHD and the Ritalin doesn't cure everything? What if there is nothing they can do about it?" she contemplated, worriedly.

"Are you thinking about Angela and Hodgins?" he asked.

"Their baby might be blind, Booth. They did everything they could to have a healthy pregnancy and yet it's out of their control. Nothing can prevent it. No scientific methods or medical treatments will help them . . . I don't know what I would do if I were in that situation . . ." she said, tears forming in her eyes.

He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine.

"Hey, look at me. They will be _fine_. No matter what happens, they will love that baby with everything they have. And I know you would do the same, right?" he assured her.

"Yes, of course I would," she agreed.

"C'mere. Everything's gonna be alright," he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "Now let's go in there and support them, okay?"

"Okay," she said, gathering her composure and finding the stuffed bunny they were going to give the baby.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Booth sat in the waiting room, discreetly staring at Brennan in the adjacent seat. She was fingering the bunny and looking very pensive. He knew she was still worried about the baby. She'd been really emotional lately, presumably because of the impending birth and results. She was, after all, gonna be the kid's surrogate aunt and Angela was her best friend, so he understood. _God_, he didn't know what he'd do if something had happened to Parker like that . . . But it didn't stop him from worrying about _Bones_. She had been through so much that he wondered if she was truly taking care of herself. He had tried, but there was only so much he could do without her telling him to back off. And her flu bug was probably the result of all the stress.

Hodgins just then came into the waiting room, a smiling, proud father. Booth knew from the expression on his face that everything was okay. He and Angela had had a healthy baby boy. As Michael was passed around to everyone and came to Booth, he realized he'd forgotten how amazing it was to hold someone that tiny and innocent, see a new life. There was nothing better in the world . . . he handed the baby back to Hodgins and congratulated him while waiting for Brennan to finish talking with Angela.

When she finally came out, Hodgins put baby Michael in her arms, and she seemed to glow with pride and amazement. Booth guessed that the time she had spent with Andy had really made a difference in her views of motherhood. She really appeared to be a natural with Michael. He couldn't help but gaze in awe at her and caught a glimpse of what it would be like if they someday had a baby of their own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I . . . I'm p-pregnant," Brennan revealed.

Booth froze in shock as they stood on the sidewalk, a few blocks from his apartment.

"You're the father," she clarified.

Typical Bones, stating the obvious . . . A smile slowly formed on his face as it finally sank in. He was gonna be a father again. Brennan was pregnant. _They were having a baby . . . He and Bones were having a baby . . ._

"Booth?" Brennan tried to snap him out of it. "Does your jovial expression indicate that you believe _this_ to be a 'great thing'?"

"Great? Bones, this is _incredible!_ I can't even begin to express how happy I am right now! We're havin' a baby! _You're_ havin' _my_ baby! _You and I made a baby!_ _This is amazing!_" he exclaimed, picking her up and spinning her around, causing them to both laugh and smile with joy.

"You're not upset?" she wondered, timidly, after he put her back down.

"Upset? Why would I be upset – this is the best news I've heard in a long time!" he assured her.

"You said you didn't want to think about having a child with me for a significant period of time," Brennan reminded him.

"I know I said that, Bones, but things happen . . . things change . . . and when something so incredible like a baby comes into your life you have to embrace it. Out of all the sadness and stress and everything we've gone through, we've gotten two amazing gifts – us . . ." he kissed her lips, then placed his hand on her stomach. "And our little miracle . . ."

"I don't believe in miracles, Booth," Brennan reminded him. "This child was produced by the act of -"

"Just go with me for once – okay, Bones?" he pleaded.

She nodded.

"What I'm saying is I love you and there is _nothing_ I want more than to raise this baby and have a life with you," Booth reassured her.

"I want that, too," she smiled.

"We're gonna be a family, Bones," he hugged her, happily.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you all so much for reading this story and for all of your feedback throughout it! Hopefully you've enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Here's the final chapter . . . :)_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Booth, you've been staring at my abdomen for over twenty minutes," Brennan sleepily complained as they lay in bed the next morning.

"I still can't get over it – there's a baby Bones growing inside of you and he's ours," Booth marveled.

"_Or she_," she corrected him.

He kissed her belly and scooted up to face her.

"It's definitely a boy. Booth men have been producing male heirs for generations," he maintained.

"The statistics are still fifty/fifty as to whether your Y-chromosome was present in the creation of the zygote," Brennan informed him.

"It's a boy, Bones. _Trust me_ – I have a gut feeling on this," he insisted. "So how far along are you?"

"I am approximately forty-one days or six weeks," she told him.

"That means the first night we . . . the night Vincent . . ." he trailed off, saddened by the remembrance of their friend.

"Yes, more than likely that was when our child was conceived," Brennan agreed and they both quieted.

"I guess I was right about the whole 'BANG! B-B-BOOM!' thing, huh?" he chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

Brennan laughed.

"Yes, apparently we are both very fertile," she observed. "Your sperm has a very high motility level from what I recall -"

"_Ahhh – Jesus, Bones – don't get all technical on me!" _he cringed. "Do ya have to go into so much detail about sex and reproduction and crap?"

"I feel discussing issues using the correct terminology is only proper," she excused.

"Well could ya tone it down a little?" he requested.

Brennan nodded.

"But I still don't understand why you are squeamish when it comes to those subjects," she replied. "They are perfectly natural facts of human life."

"So that bug you have?" he wondered, ignoring her comment.

"Is the baby inhabiting my body and causing temporary irregularity in my digestive system," she answered. "I tried to tell you, but Ang called . . . and afterward, I felt it was best not to distract you while we were working on a case."

"So does she know?" Booth asked, afraid Brennan had told Angela before him.

"Angela is the friend who I love most . . ." she said, causing Booth to stiffen. "However, you are the _person_ I love most . . . and you are the father of my child. I wouldn't tell anyone before I told you."

Booth smiled and tenderly kissed her forehead then her lips.

"You know you've always been my person, too?" he assured her.

"You told me that when you were still with -" she said, puzzled.

"Hannah? Yeah, I did," he admitted.

"I always assumed you were saying even though you had loved me, Hannah was the one you loved most?" she said, confused.

"No, Bones. It's always been you," Booth confirmed.

"Then why would you ask Hannah to marry you if you didn't love her the most?" Brennan asked.

"We've been over this, Bones. Okay? Can we not ruin a good moment here by bringing up the past?" he grumbled.

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to comprehend your reasoning," she defended. "But we can end the discussion if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Thank you," he calmed down and absently stroked her hair. "Thought of any names?"

"I am not even through the first trimester yet. It would be presumptuous to think of a name so soon," she replied.

"Bones, if you're worried about us having a healthy baby – don't," Booth told her.

"I performed normal social activities – including consuming alcoholic beverages. There are a lot of complications that could occur as a result of my behavior," she said.

"You didn't know, Bones. It's not your fault," he assured her. "And if our baby's anything like you, he'll be amazing . . . Smart . . . and strong . . . and kind . . . and generous . . . and better than anyone I know – plus he'll have my good looks and charm."

Brennan smiled.

"You also have courage, compassion, and empathy. And you _do_ have a very appealing bone structure," she agreed. "Our child should be extremely attractive, given our symmetrical features."

"Yeah?" he said.

"Yes," she confirmed rolling over, playfully fingering and kissing his body as she spoke. "You have a pronounced ratio between the width of your clavicles and ilia . . . a prominent zygomatic . . . and a large mandible . . ."

Booth chuckled.

"I love it when you go all scientific on me . . ." he grinned and pulled closer just as his phone rang. "Damn it! _Every time . . ._"

Brennan frowned, wondering who would be calling so early on a Saturday.

"Booth!" he barked.

"Hey, sweetie, is Brennan around?" Angela asked.

"Ang? What's wrong? Why are you calling at seven in the morning – I thought you were on maternity leave?" Booth wondered.

"I am – that's the problem. I love him to death, but the kid keeps me up at insane hours and then I finally get back to sleep or the nurse takes him for a while and he starts crying again to be fed. I'm sleep deprived and I need someone to vent to who won't think I'm a bad mother after one night – a female, preferably."

"Then why are ya callin' _me_ for?" he questioned.

"Because I wanted to bask in the satisfaction of knowing you two really are living together," she smirked.

"Hang on . . ." Booth grumbled. Apparently the reference of a drawer for his clothes in Brennan's apartment didn't cut it for Angela's curiosity. He was tempted to let it slip about his and Brennan's _own_ new addition, but restrained himself and handed her the phone. "Bones, it's for you."

"Ang? Is everything alright? Is the baby okay?" Brennan worried.

Booth slid out of bed and decided to go ahead and take a shower. He knew his chances of continuing a full body exam with Dr. Brennan were shot at the moment. Might as well get dressed . . .

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Okay, big man – you brought us all here, so what's the occasion?" Cam grilled him as she and the entire team from the Jeffersonian as well as Caroline and Lance gathered at Founding Fathers a few nights later.

Booth smiled and prepared to speak.

"As you all know, we lost a very good friend and member of our team not too long ago. But we also recently gained one. Angela and Hodgins weren't able to make it tonight, but baby Michael is doing well and I'm sure he's preparing to be a future member of the Squint Squad . . ." Booth said as Brennan held up a onesie that said 'Future King of the Lab' on it, causing everyone to gush. "So cheers to all of them!"

Everyone toasted each other, then Lance questioned Booth's true motive for the celebration.

"That was a touching tribute, Agent Booth. But I sense you still have an ulterior motive for inviting us here," he predicted. "Especially since you're paying."

Booth resisted the urge to smack the kid. It wasn't like he _wouldn't_ tell them, he was just warming up before he dropped the B-bomb.

"I was gettin' to it, Sweets. _Thanks_," he retorted, sarcastically. "Bones and I have some news of our own."

"That you've finally wised-up and admit you've fallen in love with each other, puttin' everyone here out of their years of misery?" Caroline interjected.

"I'm pregnant – Booth is the father," Brennan blurted out before he had a chance to respond.

"_Jesus, Bones!_ _Delicately_ – I said _delicately!_" Booth groaned.

"Sorry . . ." she sheepishly apologized.

Everyone voiced their opinions at once.

"_Oh, good lord_ – it's two years ago all over again . . ." Cam sighed.

"You're serious?" Lance asked, skeptically. "I thought I went over this with you guys - that this wasn't a good idea?"

"I tried to offer Dr. Brennan my supply at a reasonable price . . . And my credentials are beyond exceptional . . ." Fisher shook his head.

"Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth finally did the nasty together? I am the only one who thinks this is a _good_ thing?" Clark asked. "I mean, all that sexual tension and _BAM! _It's finally broken!"

"I think it's wonderful news! Babies are so cute and cuddly. And if it's a girl, Dr. Brennan can buy her frilly dresses and have tea parties . . ." Daisy rambled, enthusiastically.

"Wow . . ." Arastoo exclaimed.

"Dr. B's _pregnant?_" Wendell repeated, shocked.

"Are the two of you out of your damn minds? Do you know what a baby will do to your partnership? Booth longin' to be a father to the child, while Dr. Brennan's completely oblivious to his wants and needs and focused on bein' a competent single mother. We might as well cut our ties with the Jeffersonian right now!" Caroline flipped out.

"Hey! Whoa! Everybody just settle down!" Booth exclaimed. He was tired of witnessing all the chaos.

They all quieted, reluctantly.

"What Bones, here, failed to mention was that she and I . . . we . . . we're, uh . . ." he hesitated, realizing the impact it would have once it was finally out.

"We're having sexual intercourse on a regular basis," Brennan finished for him.

"_Bones!_" he objected. "Ya don't just come out and say somethin' like that!"

"I was merely assisting you in 'spitting it up', as you say?" she defended.

"It's 'spitting it _out_', Bones. Okay?" he corrected her. "'Spit-up' is what we're gonna be dealin' with in a few months."

"Then '_getting_ it up' pertains to the -" she asked.

"Hey - I have _no problems_ in _that _department– let's just drop it, okay!" he grumbled.

"Please tell me they're still arguing over their announcement . . ." Cam muttered to Lance.

Lance chuckled.

"I don't think so, but they're so cool to observe. The contentious energy and spark that's still present even after they've been together on a sexual level . . . Man, I can't wait for our next session!" he grinned.

"Okay - look! Guys, what Bones really meant was that we're a couple and we're raising this baby together. Now before you go thinkin' it's only because of the baby – don't even go there! We've been committed to each other for a while now and just found out about the baby last week. So – there ya go – it's out there!" he clarified.

"That wasn't very 'delicate' either, Booth," Brennan muttered.

"Ya know what, Bones? Just – never mind! I need some air, okay?" he told her, walking outside and sitting on the bench by the door.

He loved Brennan more than anything, but sometimes she just . . . What could've been a beautiful, happy event to celebrate turned into a disaster. Sure, he wasn't expecting everyone to instantly be okay with their news, but the way she just put it out there . . .

"Booth?" Brennan said, timidly coming out of the pub.

"Yeah, Bones?" he sighed.

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked.

"I'm not mad, okay? I'm . . . disappointed, that's all," he admitted.

"That's usually worse," she commented.

"I just . . . I should've known it would go this way . . . I wanted everything to be perfect – for us to give our big news and everybody be happy about it. It's stupid, and I knew it wouldn't work out that way, but . . ." he trailed off.

"I think they are, Booth," she told him. "Everyone hugged me and gave their congratulations – they appeared to be sincere."

"That's good, Bones," he forced a smile.

"Then what's wrong?" Brennan wondered.

"I wanted it to be special, okay?" Booth confessed. "I wanted for everyone to really celebrate – drink, eat, dance, have fun, ya know?"

"They _are_, Booth - right now. You're missing it," she told him, attempting to pull him up from the bench.

He gently resisted her.

"You know why I wanted this to be special, right?" he asked.

"Because you're happy about our expectant child," Brennan assumed.

"But not just that. Bones, this is the closest thing we'll get to celebrating our relationship together with our friends. We won't have a -" he began.

"A wedding?" she finished. "Booth, I have issues with the union of marriage . . . But being with you and carrying our child . . . I haven't completely ruled it out."

"You're serious?" he asked, skeptically.

"I didn't say I wanted or needed to," she warned him. "I merely said I am less opposed to the idea than I have been in the past."

Booth was pleasantly shocked. For Brennan to admit that there might be some good in marriage was huge for her. And maybe he could eventually convince her to switch sides completely. But there was no use pushing her, right then. He needed to just embrace the small progress she had made.

"Hey - that's all I'm askin' for, Bones – an open mind," he got up and took her hand. "C'mon. Let's go celebrate!"

They walked in and Booth immediately received hugs and words of congratulations and luck. After mingling for a while, he went over and whispered in the bartender's ear a request from the CD he'd given him before the party. As the song began to play, Booth offered his hand to Brennan.

"Booth, this bar is not meant for dancing – there isn't any room," she said.

"Then we'll _make_ room," he insisted, moving a few chairs out of the way.

As Brennan took her mind off of the situation and put her arms around his neck, swaying to the music, she realized what song it was.

"I thought you didn't like Toad the Wet Sprocket?" she smiled and affectionately leaned her head on his shoulder as 'All I Want' played.

"I never said I didn't like 'em – I just said they weren't a true rock band," he clarified, spinning her around. "Besides, I know they're one of your favorites."

She smiled, shyly.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she apologized.

"It's okay, Bones. We fight . . . we make up . . . it's what couples do. I'll always love you – no matter what," he assured her.

"Me, too," she told him as they contentedly danced in the small space in the bar, their friends smiling at them.

Booth chastely pressed his lips against Brennan's and held her close, ignoring the beat of the song and everything else around them. After all the obstacles they'd faced, he and Brennan were finally happy. They were definitely headed for an incredible rollercoaster of a life together, but he couldn't have dreamt of anything better – after all, he had the real thing this time . . .


End file.
